Spirit of Nature
by VereorFaux
Summary: When the Echidna fight ended, and the Travelers returned home, something happened. Taylor was pulled into the portal, and woke up in the middle of a field, in a world that was not her's and instead of fear about her power and appearance... she received prayers.
1. Spirit Skitter

Spirit of Nature 1 (EDITED!) - "Thus, the cloud of death killed itself." - Habib to Saul, on Skitter's descending.

* * *

Taylor was falling. At least she was pretty sure she was falling - it was like her whole body was flung into some direction and just wouldn't stop…

The last things she remembered were Echidna dying, and then the Travelers being sent home by Labyrinth and Scrub doing their weird portal thing. She was in an endless void - it reminded her of being covered by Grue's power, this time with no ground beneath her feet. There were no bugs in her range, no control. She couldn't hear the wind in her ears, or feel her skin touching her costume. It was… sickening. She felt tired and dizzy - the wounds she had received, the cuts and bruises, the abuse she suffered from fighting Echidna were burning horribly. She closed her eyes.

She tried to grasp something - anything! But it was impossible. Her friends were gone, and she was dying. Was this what dying felt like? What would her dad say when he heard about it - if he ever heard about it, if Lisa or the Wards ever even told him? What would he do? If he triggered...

And even though she couldn't grasp her way home, she found _something_ familiar. Crawling, _skittering_. Bugs! Spiders! She could feel them everywhere now… so… was she alive? She reached out, trying to search through the empty space around her with them, and found nothing. Despite the familiar feeling of her power working, there was no control.

She hit the ground on her side, though that couldn't be right. It felt as though she had tripped and hit the ground, not fallen from a great height. The pain of her previous wounds forced her up, alert. Echidna must still be nearby…

Finally opening her eyes, she saw a dark night sky, the only light in it the bright stars. They were so bright, there were so many. She never saw this many stars in Brockton Bay.

Her chest hurt, she was barely able to stay on her feet. Where was she? What happened?

Trying to move, but finding herself too weak and tired for it, she collected some insects from nearby - nocturnal insects, moths or mosquitoes or fruit flies - and sent them to look around. They found nobody.

"Lisa?" she rasped even though she knew they weren't there to hear her, her throat dry and burning. "Brian? Rachel?" And then, almost as a last-ditch effort, wondering if this were some strange trick by a remaining clone... "Alec? Aisha?"

Taylor's concern increased and grew into outright fear. They survived, right? Echidna was gone, and they should have been free of Coil's machinations...

"Where are you?"

Tired, hungry, thirsty, and hurt while stranded in the middle of nowhere, Taylor sat down and tried to regain her bearings. It was… less than comfortable, but she was too tired to care. Her wounds needed treatment, but besides the silk of some spiders she could find nearby, she didn't have anything with her that could help. She closed her eyes. She would find them. She had to.

* * *

Taylor awoke to the sun shining brightly onto her face; mask-lenses or no, it was still blindingly bright, and she lay there for a moment, stunned. _How long have I been sleeping?_ She was still tired, though it had been the longest period of sleep she had had in what felt like forever. Lifting herself off the ground, she got cautiously to her feet and looked around, augmenting her senses through the small insects that clung to the wheat-stalks. It was an impressive, if wholly foreign, sight - the kind she could only remember seeing in old documentaries, or textbooks, of much older times: a sea of wheat, ripe and golden, stretching out into the horizons and swaying in a gentle breeze.

A beautiful sight, and - a doomed one. The locusts announced themselves to her senses - her power, first, and then her hearing, and then her sight. They were a dark massed cloud, buzzing much more loudly than she would ever have expected... and hungry. She could feel some of them eating, in fields beyond her sight.

The decision was instant. The locusts descended, to eat the wheat field - then they received their new instructions, and spiralled up into a whirling mass over it, turning their incredible appetite on themselves. The cloud roiled and buckled, and presently began raining pieces of locust… . A disturbance in the wheat field. She knew he was there without turning to look at him, and similarly heard his gasp without trying. He was running through the wheat field towards - no, not towards her. Towards the locust cloud. His course changed, though, and now he was approaching her, slowing down as he neared her.

He was old, with white hair and skin that looked like tanned leather - and while he looked a lot older than her father, he was hung with lean ropes of muscle and apparently fit enough to run a kilometer or two without tiring.

"A spirit," the man said, though it was unclear if he was addressing Taylor or the wheat field. "A spirit has descended - oh, what sins have we committed to bring the wrath of the heavens upon us?"

His tone reminded her of the way the ABB spoke to Lung.

Taylor was confused. He was speaking English, wasn't he? She couldn't place the accent; it wasn't English, Australian, Canadian, American, or… well, anywhere she could think of that spoke English. Maybe he was a non-native speaker? Or maybe she ended up in some cut-off hippy commune somewhere.

The locusts didn't stop, continuing their endless cannibalism, but standing like this was getting harder to sustain.

Maybe she could get some medicine or bandages, anything to make sure she wouldn't die of an infection or bleeding if the wounds opened again. As she shifted, it felt as though she was stretching stitches. What stitches? It must have happened while she slept, but moving with them wouldn't hold long.

The old man finally seemed to realise she was listening to him, even if she was looking at the locust swarm in the distance. He started off with a bow, low enough that his head dipped below the wheat for a moment. "O great spirit of the winds and the world, who soars on the wind and before whom we are as mayflies," he intoned, clearly following a certain well-memorised formula, "This poor and lowly one is Habib of Sidon. Though I am poor and have nothing, and am small and powerless, may it be pleasing in your sight to spare this crop of wheat, lest I starve; and my family and village with me. Know that I have sworn my life to you, and the lives of all my children, and their children's children for a thousand-"

"Don't worry." Taylor cut in quickly, already uncomfortable and trying to forestall the flow of words. "The locusts won't destroy the wheat. I've told them to eat each other." Not all of them, though. There were over nine hundred remaining, nearly a thousand, less a cloud than a small swarm. It wasn't like she wanted to kill off all the locusts, but a field like this didn't create itself. They had had to work hard for this, and she couldn't simply let the locusts destroy it. The remaining bugs would do for now, until she could replace her spiders and bees, and so she sent the command. Habib's eyes widened as the locusts flew into and disappeared under her costume, packed away into the compartments.

The man's face flashed relief, his body shaking just moments before it dipped entirely below the wheat. He was still shaking when his head was pressed in the dirt.

"Thank you, great spirit, merciful and mighty," He said, his tone less formulaic now and much more emotional - in fact, he reminded her of her people in the Bay after she'd defeated Mannequin.. "If I am worth anything in your sight, please accompany me to the village of Sidon. We are but a poor village, small and without wealth, but we shall feast and honour you for the salvation you have brought us today -" And there was that tone of invocation again, though no less sincere for being scripted.

At the word 'feast' Taylor's stomach growled. And she still felt a bit thirsty...

"That would be kind of you," Taylor told him by way of accepting, though it felt strangely mismatched, given the way he was speaking. "But why are you calling me 'spirit'?"

"What else could you be?" Habib asked, still on the ground. "There is no man like you, who rises out of the wheat fields in time of need, who turns the tide of the locust-hunger upon itself; who wields powers beyond human understanding, and who saves men to whom he owes no debt. Truly you are a spirit, descended to us from on high, benevolent and kind."

They must all be like Myrddin, who called his powers 'magic'. "I am Skitter," she told him, deciding against using her real name or her bugs to magnify her voice for the moment. "Please don't call me a spirit."

"I humbly receive your command and obey, o goddess Skitter," Habib said at once, before standing up and surreptitiously wiping mud off his forehead. He cast a glance around them, as if to make sure that the fields were still alright, and began to lead the way out of the wheat field and towards a small collection of huts in the distance.

Taylor sighed, and followed him, picking up a steady stream of insects in her wake as she went. The wounds still stung. Her side felt a little wet as she walked. She sent one of the locusts to investigate, and when it found blood seeping through the silk, had the insect press itself against the silk.

There was a large lake on the other side of the village; as they approached. Taylor could see a few small boats on it, fishing-rods and nets dangling over their sides. From what she was seeing and picking up from her bugs, however… Habib was far from being the only man in the wheat fields; the fields were absolutely full of men and women, stripped almost nude from the hot work, wielding sickles and gathering the ripened wheat into small bags slung from their waists. Almost all of them were turning to stare at them as she passed.

"It is the season of harvest, goddess Skitter," said Habib apologetically, after the sixth or seventh such person had stopped their work entirely while they passed by. Greetings and welcoming gestures had died on every lip or hand, and instead it became like walking through one of those theme parks where the statues turned to follow you as you walked through. "Pray do not visit your wrath upon them for their inquisitiveness! The garb and the manner of the goddesses are strange to us.."

"I understand," said Skitter hastily. Her mind was on other things; she could feel _more_ insects in this one field than she had felt in any given city block of Brockton Bay, and this was by far the largest amount she ever had gotten together. Some of the individual species seemed absolutely new - maybe she ended up in some amish colony? Or maybe these species were experiments of some tinker? She shuddered. Hopefully it won't be like with Bonesaw.

"Where are we - I mean, which country are we in?" Taylor asked Habib. The man was still leading her through the wheat field.

"This is the Elamian kingdom, as it is known to we poor mortals, goddess Skitter," he answered. "But Sidon sits true on the edge between kingdoms, like a bone between dogs; Abdal has staked its domain up to that mountain-ridge, south of the lake, and Noura is not far away.."

Elamia? Kingdom? Even if she hadn't been paying attention in Geography class, she was sure she could recognise the names of most countries. This one, though, was a total blank. Was she in Africa? But… the people here didn't have the right skin tones at all… maybe further north on the continent? She hadn't heard anyone speaking anything in the direction of Arabic.

They entered the village, and instantly people began running to the village entrance; she already knew the exact position of each and every one of them, and had bugs on them to tell her what they were doing - and had even more bugs hidden, ready to act if the people attacked - "O citizens of Sidon!" Habib bellowed, and Taylor's ears rang from the sudden outburst of sound from the man. Unlike his previous respectfully muted tones, he was now shouting loud enough to wake Sleeper. "Hark unto my words, and hear the works of goddess Skitter, who has favoured us with Her blessed presence! For today the locusts came, and would have denuded our fields, leaving us to starve; and without the wheat we should have died this coming winter. But goddess Skitter saw our need, and in Her infinite mercy She descended; out of the wheat she rose, and with a wave of her hand the locusts consumed themselves! Praise be unto goddess Skitter, Patroness of Sidon!"

The attitudes of the people at the village entrance changed so abruptly that Taylor would have suspected Master influence. Over the course of Habib's speech, they went from suspiciousness, to fear, to outright reverence. They split to open a way when he led her through, and they didn't even comment on the river of small insects that followed her in, stretching from her heels to the wheat field.

A man, thick-set and heavily moustached, and a young boy, no older than six or seven, approached them. Habib embraced the young boy, and Taylor saw the family resemblance at once..

The man got the same look on his face that Habib had had, out in the fields. "O great goddess Skitter of the winds and the world, whose… uh, whose covering is the sky and whose footstool the earth, we... welcome you to our hearts and our home.," the man bowed, putting a hand on the boy's head and pushing it lower. "O great goddess Skitter," repeated the boy after the man, "whose covering is the sky and whose -"

Taylor interrupted them. Being a goddess had its perks. "Just call me Skitter, please."

"O goddess, forgive him, for he knows nothing!" exclaimed the man, one arm going protectively around his son. "Spare his young life, and take mine instead!"

Taylor paused, trying to formulate a reply, and finally said: "It's okay."

Not. It wasn't okay. Being confused for a goddess could help her to get through this, but this was getting ridiculous. The people here feared her already. It reminded her of the people after the news that the Slaughterhouse 9 were coming.

"The goddess does not care for the invocations," said Habib in the tone of a man who finds out all the experts are wrong. "We must have our prayer-books rewritten in a fashion more pleasing to her." Turning to Skitter, Habib bowed deeply. "If it please you, these are the lowly men of my family." Despite his words, his tone was fond and proud. "Hannibal, my eldest son, and Hamilcar, the eldest of his sons, my first grandson." He turned to Hannibal, then, drawing himself up straight. "Well? What are you waiting for? We must prepare the feast! Have the masons sent for - I shall speak with them, and we must begin the building! And have the women come and tend to the needs of the goddess!"

"Building what?" Taylor asked of Habib; Hannibal had already gone off somewhere to begin feast preparations. Habib's eyebrows twitched, but emphatically did not rise up in surprise, and he nodded gravely. "Goddess Skitter -" he said, but he broke off to try to grab at Hamilcar, now unattended by Hannibal and free to toddle right up to put one chubby hand out and tugged lightly on her costume. Looking down, she found him staring at her with wide eyes.

"Goddess Skitter," the boy said in his high-pitched, prepubescent voice, "Can you give me my mother back?"

Whatever Habib had been about to say died on his lips at once, and his eyes went wide, staring in fear at his grandson. Had Taylor been paying attention to him, her insects would have told her that the old man was practically vibrating in fear for the boy.

Answers and emotions bubbled up inside Taylor, rising up out of a repressed sea and breaking on the surface. For the first time since she had arrived in Sidon of Elamia, Taylor was truly grateful for the face-concealing mask; they could not see her face twitching under it. Instead, Taylor only sighed and reached out with one hand to pat the boy on the head. He flinched from the initial contact, but stayed docilely there while she ran her hand through his hair, gently.

She didn't kneel down to tell him. "I cannot," she said, brusque because she couldn't trust her voice to be as gentle as her fingers. "Nobody can."

She'd asked that question too, after her mother died; it just didn't seem right, and it still didn't. All the powers in the world; technology thousands of years ahead of anything that Earth Bet's scientists had even dreamed of, let alone built; incredible feats of skill and technique being demonstrated each new day- and yet nobody could revive a woman who didn't deserve to die that young. She had had to simply accept it, in the end. Death came to everybody, deserving or not, and there was no way to bring them back from it. But then, if people could be revived, the Endbringers wouldn't be as feared as they were...

"Please forgive him, goddess Skitter!" exclaimed Habib, darting forward to pry Hamilcar's fingers off of Taylor's costume and pull the young boy back. "He is young, badly taught, and knows nothing - it is my fault if he has offended you, be the punishment on my head and mine alone…" In his grip, Hamilcar was staring wide-eyed at Skitter, tears beginning to gather in the corners of his large eyes.

"Don't worry," Taylor said, thinking that it was going to be her new catch-phrase soon enough - the Interrupting Goddess of Don't Worry - and ignoring his title for her, because he didn't seem as if he would ever stop using it. "I lost my mother too. I understand what it's like."

She looked away, into the unfamiliar void above her, the stars that were usually hidden by the lights of her city. Brockton Bay...

And that reminded her of Danny. She wondered how he was now, and if she could go back and what that would be like. She wondered if that made her a technical orphan -

She walked over to Hamilcar, kneeling down this time and brushing aside the tears spilling down his cheeks with the back of one finger.

"I'm sorry," he said, hugging her awkwardly; the awkwardness was compounded by the shape of her armour.

"Don't be." She got up, looking around. She needed to diffuse the emotionality of the moment. "You said I would be tended to?" she asked Habib, and immediately a bevy of women arose and whisked her away to a room in Habib's house.

The villagers stared in awe, memorising every detail of it for retelling later that night, or months later, or even years later to their grandchildren: "Did I ever tell you, beloved, about the day the benevolent and merciful goddess, Skitter, She Who Sees All and Forgives, came to Sidon?"

Habib's home was the largest in the village, which meant that it had a separate room for every nuclear family in it - one for Habib and his wife, one for his son and his late wife, and one room for Hamilcar. Apart from those, there were the living rooms, dining rooms, and what Skitter quickly realised were called facilities here rather than toilets. Being the local goddess, however, meant that she had immediately been placed in Hamilcar's room, and the boy was shunted off to his parents' room to sleep in, until more permanent accommodations had been prepared for Taylor.

Of course, had she known that what they meant by "more permanent accommodations" had been a temple befitting a goddess, she would have probably interrupted and tried to talk them out of it. Right now Taylor was enjoying the first meal she had in what felt like an eternity. Her wounds were at least bandaged now. The people were welcoming, and nice - if somewhat brittle, out of the fear of angering her in any way. But as long as she ignored that, it almost felt like a home she could get used to, an environment with friendly faces around, like it had been with the Undersiders. _Scratch that_ , she thought, remembering Bitch.

She still wasn't sure where this place actually was; for all she knew, the entire thing was happening in her mind, under some esoteric Master or Stranger influence; even if not, a Master could have taken over all of these people, replaced their previous identities and personalities for whatever reason... Even if they had been friendly until now, she couldn't simply give her identity to them. What if someone just stumbled towards this place and found her? If she could get here, presumably so could anyone. With a pang, she wished she'd introduced herself as some other name - Weaver, perhaps, or Arachne, or The Queen Bee… well, it was too late for that.

Another perk of being taken as a goddess was that everything she asked for was provided to her at once, without questions. They had not remarked on her wounds, merely washing them and applying scented salves and bandages to it efficiently, after complimenting the paleness of her skin; she had also been allowed to eat on her own, in private, instead of at the communal table where the whole family gathered for meals. They had simply provided her with food and retreated away, leaving her alone in the room. She pulled her mask off, after closing the window-shutters and spreading her bugs out in patrols that would inform her of anyone approaching. They had provided her with some bread, small hard wheat cakes, a bowl of thick dark honey, dates, figs, some baked fish, and a slab of butter. No cutlery, however; they seemed to eat with their hands, and only gave her perplexed looks when she asked for a spoon or fork, though she did get a knife when she asked for one. Was it so strange? If knives existed here, so should spoons, right? The looks they gave her were once again a strange mixture of fear and awe, and it made her feel like the odd one out.

"This honey is so good…" she muttered, in between dipping dates into it and swallowing them whole. There was a small pile of date-seeds beside her. . "There isn't any honey like this back home…" She had only eaten part of the meat; the rest of it, she had cut up into small enough pieces for her bugs to feed on.

The bugs needed it; she was already weaving a bag to take some things with her, using one of these strange new spider species. While she still didn't know where in the world - or even _which_ world where she was, the spiders here were roughly the same. There was one new one, which the locals called "nightback" because of the white specks surrounding the one large white dot on their otherwise black bodies, and seemed to be generally accepted into houses as a way to help keep other insect populations down.

Even as hungry as she was, she had no hope of finishing all the food they had offered her on her own; the insects, too, were sated long before the food was gone. She put her mask back on and opened the door, only to find a female servant already there and waiting to collect the used earthenware dishes and leftovers. While the woman did her work, Taylor called out for Habib. "Do you have a map?" she asked the man, when he appeared from his room, cutting short the burst of murmured conversation she had heard from it.

"It is truly a joy and a pleasure to me this day, to be of service to my goddess,," he said, bowing. "Was the meal to your satisfaction?"

"Yes, it was absolutely delicious, thank you," she said, stepping back from the door and seating herself back at the table.

"It is but the least we could do for the benevolent goddess, who has saved our village from starvation in the coming winter," he told her, and stepped away for a moment; there was the sound of rummaging, and he returned with a rolled-up scroll. He set it down on the table and unrolled it; it took up a good half of the table. Taylor stared at the unfamiliar shapes of the continent and the countries, and tried to look for any landmark that she might know - Endbringer attacks, other countries' coastlines, anything at all - and came up perfectly blank.

"It pains my honour, great goddess, but this is the most accurate map that can be had in Elamia, Abdal, or Noura without being also a royal scout or navigator," he said, sighing and indicating the many blank spaces on the map; the only detailed regions were the realms of the three kingdoms named, but even those ended abruptly at the sea or at the mountain ranges, with only some small notes labelled there. Taylor frowned. Even the _writing_ here was in English, and used modern spelling at that. "The mountains on the northeast are impossible to go through, so we only hear legends of what lies beyond, and no one dared to cross the waters since the storms that never stopped for centuries." As he spoke, Habib indicated the regions with his finger.

She would have asked why they couldn't go over the mountains, but the map made her stare in disbelief. Elamia was a big country with multiple smaller ones around it - that much she could see. It was also a small part of a giant island, which didn't look like Africa at all, or indeed any other continent or country she could name.

This map was completely new to her - it was… she was…

Where was Lisa when you needed her brain? Taylor fought with herself to remain calm - panic wouldn't do any good.

"Each of these countries marked here is a kingdom?" She swept her finger across the map, tapping on the different outlined, named shapes on it.

"I fear not, o goddess," he said, pointing at another island due west. "This is the Pavilion; it's a theocracy. And over here is Massad; the people cast off the concept of kings and use elections to choose their leaders. There is also the empire across the sea, though we are not often dealing with them, our kingdom is a sovereign state under their banner."

For a farmer, Habib sounded very well-learned about the affairs of other countries. Taylor was no expert on the medieval ages, but… hadn't these things been primarily the concern of the nobility? She'd thought farmers wouldn't have known anything farther than the borders of their village.

"A theocracy?" she said, tapping the Pavilion thoughtfully. Perhaps another cape was there, though she couldn't think of any capes that she knew to have aspirations towards godhood. "Of which faith?"

"One of the sons of Eshmun," said Habib; he had dropped the honorifics and servile tone, and now sounded much more like a teacher or a guide of some sort. "He cut his ties from his father and brothers, declaring that he was a servant of the spirits, and raised it with the help of his followers," he explained, though he did not elaborate on which spirit the nameless son of Eshmun claimed to serve. The name of Eshmun, however, rang a bell; she had heard that name used by the villagers, more than once- mostly in a tone that they seemed to use when speaking about her. "It is said that the Pavilion was built with the purpose of honouring you and all your kin, and none may enter it but those who pass the exacting tests of the son of Eshmun - or those who are his true followers." Habib almost sounded wistful, at that, and then caught himself with a start. "Forgive me, o goddess!" he said, quickly retreating from the table and pressing his forehead to the floor. "I have forgotten my place and have spoken to you as to a mere daughter of the earth. May this not be counted against the lives of my family, but take only mine!"

"Habib," she said, forcing herself and her voice to be calm. "I was separated from my… kin, others with powers like myself. They might come looking for me; perhaps they have come together, but have landed elsewhere on the world already."

"I am honoured by the revelations of the goddess, and awed by her boundless mercies," he breathed, though he didn't raise his head from the floor. "What can your poor servant do in your service?"

"I must go to find them," she told him. "If they were here, maybe I could stay here with them. But right now, I need to look for them. It might be a long journey."

"The mysteries of the spirits are deep indeed," he sighed. "For such beings of power and wisdom, to abandon the heavenly realms and descend to walk the earth; ah, truly I have lived to hear wonders and see great things. It pains me to hear you speak of departure, yet it is futile to keep a goddess where they would not stay." There was only a momentary pause, and then he spoke once more: "If the house of Habib of Sidon has found any favour in your eyes, let Hannibal be your servant and proclaimer on your path, to ease your way and testify of your great deeds. He is young, and strong, and well-learned in the pleasant arts."

"No," she told him simply. "I won't take him with me. His son needs him here."

Habib raised his face, wearing a stricken expression. "Forgive me for persisting, o goddess: Hamilcar is a light burden, compared to what you must suffer on the road, and he would be the lighter for the knowledge that his father is faithful in your service…" He trailed off, as Taylor stood up to face him head-on, her arms on her hips and the hidden bugs beginning to buzz. "

"A child needs his parent," she said. "Believe me, I know."

"The goddess has spoken, and I must obey," Habib said with resignation. "Please, speak only the word and it shall be given unto you; the storehouses of Habib are open unto you in everything you shall require. How many days more shall we enjoy the light of your presence?"

The bugs quietened down, but Taylor didn't sit down, instead beginning to pace the room as she thought. "I think I will stay here for a few days more, and maybe visit the capital later," she explained. The capital would, she hoped, be a good place to start her search - even if she didn't find any of her companions there, she might be able to get information there that she couldn't get here (Habib's learned airs notwithstanding). It would also give her the chance to speak to the king or whoever ruled here, and ask them for help. "I'll need food, first, and to regain my strength."

Ha, she _didn't_ need Tattletale to make her plans foolproof, see?

"If I might make so bold as to suggest it," Habib said "The village of Heth is but a few days' travel from here. They are a village of orchards, and it is also the harvest season for them; surely they will recognise and worship you, and ply you with many gifts for your journey."

"Thank you," she said, looking for Heth on the map. It looked a bit closer to the middle, where the capital stood anyway, so it wouldn't take her far out of her way at all. Next to Heth, less than a day's travel if she read the map right, was a small red dot marked 'Friede'. That sounded German, didn't it? She was sure. "What is this?"

"The City of Idols, Friede," he frowned disapprovingly. His pronunciation actually sounded rather good, so maybe she really was in Germany? Austria? Switzerland? Maybe they were just a bit secluded…Of course they weren't. Wishful thinking wouldn't take her far. "They do not worship the spirits, as we do, and instead worship strange gods of their own making. Truly it is a sad and benighted place, though they do not see it. In fact, their missionaries visit us once a month; but they were only able to influence the women and children who were weak in their faith, and we soon put them away from us. It is said, though, that Heth has lost not a few villagers to their heresies and lies." He turned his eyes upon Taylor, and the unspoken message was clear: the goddess ought to visit the City of Idols and… do something, preferably something massively violent.

So, either she made haste and moved to the capital as fast as possible, or she visited the village that could give her a lot of food, but which was next to a city full of… idolaters. Considering that there were probably more than 40,000 different denominations of just one faith on her earth, she shouldn't have been surprised if the same thing was happening here.

"Still," she said. "Heth seems a good place to start. Thank you, again. If I can do anything for you…"

"O goddess, benevolent saviour," he said, smiling beatifically. "Simply by coming to us you have blessed us with your protection and saved us by your grace. The locusts would have devoured our harvest and that of Heth and Friede, and we should all have starved with no-one to save or succour us. Our lives, all of them, for generations to come, are devoted to you and you only."

Taylor felt awkward. She wasn't used to that much adoration - especially considering she was a feared villain where she came from. Of course she had some friends and subordinates, but-

"How about I repair some clothes? I'm good at that," she said. "And I won't take no for an answer."

"Our goddess is kind beyond measure," breathed Habib worshipfully. "I shall call for the women, and they shall accompany you and see to all your needs."

Behind her mask, Taylor smiled and then laughed, her earlier turbulence at the alienness of the world having mostly passed. After a moment, Habib chuckled as well (though awkwardly), and then withdrew from her room. She sat down at the table again, basking in her good mood.

Staying here for a bit wouldn't be too bad.


	2. Heth

Spirit of Nature 2 (EDITED!) - "They say she was insulted, yet did not curse the village."

* * *

Ten days had passed, and though it promised to be a beautiful autumn day, the mood in the village was gloomy. She could breathe much easier now, and her wounds didn't easily reopen anymore when she moved too quickly.

The harvest had been put off for the day, as the villagers gathered around Taylor's shrine; she was standing at its entrance, beside the tall stone bust of her. She had not been able to deter Habib or his masons, but had at least managed to avoid the elaborate metal insects they had been about to decorate it with. Habib was standing beside her, dressed in an elaborate robe with a turban, hung with glittering gems. For her part, she was dressed in her costume, with a simple robe thrown over it to keep out the dust and heat. At her feet were some small packs, as heavy as she could reasonably carry, packed with honey, dates, dried meat, some local currency, and skins of water. She had had to decline the offer of a horse and cart, as well as the services of various villagers.

A small bell rang as the sun rose above the mountains, marking the beginning of the ceremony. "Behold we gather today, men and women of Sidon," Habib intoned solemnly, "to witness our goddess Skitter as she sets out on her most holy pilgrimage. For it were selfish and unnatural for mere men to hoard the gifts and the presence of the goddesses." A small, rather sardonic smile crept out past his solemn mien. "Though it cannot be said of us that we did not try."

Skitter smiled, too, sad but resigned; in the time she had spent there, she had grown used to the habits of the villagers of Sidon.

She took a deep breath, and began the speech she had prepared for it. "Good citizens of Sidon, I thank you for your services to me in this time. The locusts will not touch you this year, and the grain in your stores shall not be stolen; the moth shall not devour your cloth, and the nightbacks shall cover your windows." Most of their clothes had patches of Nightback silk by now, which they were wearing with pride. It had started as part of her help in mending their clothes, and had suddenly developed to the point where villagers were deliberately ripping up their clothes so that she would mend them. "Would that I could tarry here until the winter was past, but I must search for my kin." The regret in her voice was real; despite their obeisance towards her and the giant shrine, she had enjoyed being there. They were a helpful people, welcoming and jolly. "Yet I shall not pass from you forever - I shall return, when my journey is complete."

"The promise of the goddess warms our hearts, even as we sorrow for her departure," Habib said. "Hannibal has gone to Heth and made arrangements in advance; surely they will help you in every way that they can.""

She nodded, at least there was no need to throw around bugs and have them pray like the people in Sidon did. She didn't want to leave a trail of shrines behind her everywhere she went, after all.

"May your quest be quick and successful," Habib said, bowing. The villagers did the same.

"May you live in peace, without fear," Taylor muttered, bending down to pick up the packs and sling them onto her back. She headed down the steps of the shrine, the villagers parting to let her through to the exit of the village. "Goodbye."

The children sat around the tutor in a semicircle, with their books out in front of them. He was holding a short rod, which he alternately used to tap them or their books, according to need. His rod landed on Amal's scroll, tapping the passage they were studying that day.

"Recite it, Amal, if you would," said the tutor in tones of infinite patience.

Amal sat up and straightened her back eagerly, opening her mouth and reciting from memory, looking up: "'Fear not, for I am Helel, the spirit of light; and behold I bring the morning sun upon its course.' Thus it is written in the book of Viri the Savant."

"Correct, as usual," said the tutor approvingly, and Amal resumed her previous position with a beam of satisfaction on her face; beside her, unseen by the tutor, Jayhan rolled his eyes. Jayhan had short black hair, kept barely above his ears. It was unkempt, and slightly greasy from avoiding a good bath for a bit too long.

Amal, daughter of Faysal, citizen of Heth, was probably one of the strongest believers of the spirits in Heth. Faysal was a priest at the shrine, and had raised her to fear and honor them. From early childhood, she had learned everything that there was to be known about the spirits; the history of each one, and of the great war they had waged, and about the Sleeping One.

She also had books, and a bookish disposition. Dozens of them, sitting on her table at home, spilling out of shelves and cabinets, sometimes strewn across the tables to the frustration of her mother; she even brought them to the school, to read when she had a break, while the other children would chase each other around and play their games. She read them all from beginning to end, and then read them again - the epic poems that told the stories of the ancient spirits up to the stories of the children of the spirits, and the tyranny of those generations; how the first human king had made a contract with the spirits through prayers and arcane rituals of sacrifice, and for all that had still failed to defeat the Sleeping One.

The only person besides Amal who had shown any interest at all in the old stories had been Iman, her best friend since childhood. They had been born within a few months of each other, and had kept to each other like a shadow to its body. Up to a few years ago, you did not see the one without the other. And despite the fact that they were so different; where Amal spent her nights reading with Faysal, Iman went out running with the boys of the village. It had earned her disapproving looks, and it was the single greatest difference between the two of them.

All that had been shattered beyond repair when the idolaters of Friede had come the last time. Iman had gone to listen to them and read the papers they handed out, and then begun asking questions of the tutor that could not be answered, questions that Amal knew the idolaters had planted in her mind. She had cast aside her prayer-books and stormed out of the class, one day, and the next day she went with the idolaters to Friede: the journey no one ever came back from. Amal still said the prayers for Iman's soul and her return, but… The doubts that Iman had spoken still prickled in her mind. Were there truly limits to the spirits' powers?

Amal smiled despite the pain of the memory flickering at the front of her mind - she had wandered far from the verse the tutor was expounding on, but it didn't matter; she had already read and memorised the scroll in its entirety, and would be able to instantly answer any question the tutor might ask about it.

What would it be like to meet a spirit, she wondered? How would one even summon them? The king in the story had burned entire forests before Shaitan, the spirit of fire had even come to speak its first word to him, but after that the communications had come fast and thick - up until they stopped, many hundreds of years back, with the advent of the Sleeping One. It was no surprise why the Idolaters of Friede had found such easy targets in the villages around them - even in the capital, there were those who were weak in the faith.

She dreamed of the spirits, sometimes. Of the legendary figures, lost spirits who had left, never returning to face the earth again when the Sleeping One appeared.

Iblis, the goddess of the moon, wife to Helel of the morning sun. They said her beauty was so great that men who saw her could love neither wife, nor child, nor home again, and would pine away for another glimpse - so, in her mercy, she only came out of her home in the skies at the new moon, when her presence was invisible.

Shaitan, the god of flames; the first of the spirits to forge the contracts between spirit and men, he who was said to have forged Eshmun's sword with Besi, from the foundries of the world. The hundred-named sword, which never dulled and could cut so finely that you might walk a hundred miles before you realised you were dead.

But of all the gods, the spirits of the farms were the ones that everyone knew: the ones whose names were never far from anyone's lips, whether in prayers for the sowing or in pleas for a bountiful reaping. They ate of their fruit and lived off of their spawn - the moon was beautiful and the flames bright, but in the end the people needed to eat, to live.

Her father's voice called for her, interrupting the lesson. Her tutor looked up, his eyebrows drawn together at the disturbance, but Amal had already rolled up her scroll, babbled the customary phrase of thanks to him, and run away as best she could in her robes. She knew what it meant; the man from Sidon had come to give the word some days ago!

"A spirit, as in the days of old!" he had proclaimed to the priests at the shrines. "Benevolent and powerful, who stopped the locusts and flushed out the rats from our storehouses. You will know the spirit by the glorious train of insects and this -" And Hannibal of Sidon had shown them the patch of cloth, stronger and smoother than any they could ever weave, made of the silk of spiders. "The spirit's entire raiment is made of such!"

Amal's heart sped up as she hurried to join her father at the gates of Heth. In the distance she could see a figure. It was indistinct, impossible to make out truly; it seemed to be a dark cloud, taller and broader than the largest of the men of Heth, coming towards them at a walking pace.

Had her prayers finally been heard?

Had the gods finally decided to answer the questions of this devout follower?

Elamia was really beautiful, in a perfect unspoiled way. Taylor hadn't seen such beautiful scenery for years- and ever since Leviathan's attack on Brockton Bay there wasn't much beauty remaining. It wasn't like Brockton Bay was a very beautiful city to start, but it was her home.

Sidon had fallen rapidly into the distance behind her as she strode out past the wheat fields. She passed by the cut stalks of harvested wheat and then the sea of golden-ripe wheat, still waiting to be harvested in the last few weeks of autumn. It seemed almost endless when she passed the first field, but gave way soon enough to a plain of flat grass in front of her. It wasn't truly flat of course; flowering shrubs, weeds, and herbs dotted the grass, waving in the wind and glowing vibrant under the morning sun. Behind her the view stretched out to the mountains that marked the border between the known and the unknown, before her it seemed to stretch out to the horizon and beyond. She picked up her pace a little, as she only had enough food on her for a few days' travel and had to make Heth before it ran out. In the distance were herds of grazing animals - wild or tame, she wasn't sure and couldn't truly tell.

If she ever found a way home - a sobering thought, amidst the intoxicating beauty around her -, she would definitely ask for a way back one day. Surely Labyrinth and Scrub could build a portal here...

She camped for the night under the shelter of a vast sprawling tree, an outcrop of a nearby forest that she didn't want to venture into, and ate and drank before she leaned back, closing her eyes and letting her senses fan out through her bugs. It was striking how this world was filled with so many bugs; she was gathering thousands with every minute she travelled! She had abandoned the slower, crawling bugs early on, keeping only the flying ones, but even so the entire volume of her range had quickly filled up. From afar, she probably looked like a travelling dome, dense with the buzzing black insects. There were so many that she was almost having trouble feeding them, and she certainly had not had the time to identify many of the new species other than the most rudimentary glance at their abilities - poisons, silks, mandibles, alarmingly large wings…

The last thought to cross her mind, before sleep claimed her, was: _How_ safe _it is in Elamia._

There was no need to sleep with one eye open.

She woke early the next morning, before the sun was up, and continued her travels, using the landmarks from the day before to guide her; she had a smaller copy of Habib's map but had not been able to familiarise herself with the landmarks enough to use them for navigation. Accustomed to the beauty of the pastoral view around her, she made good time that day.

On the third day, the landscape began changing. Signs of human interaction with the environment began cropping up: spent arrows, the remains of a camp, and a drained water-skin. Spires of smoke trailed into the sky from far-off fires, and she began walking faster. It was almost midday when the village's buildings began to loom in the vision of her airborne bugs, and shortly after she could see it with her own eyes. She began compacting the bugs around herself, calling some of them down to perch on her coat and clothing until it was completely covered with a glittering chitinous layer; the rest of them, she kept aloft in a swirling swarm around her.

Taking out some water, she took off her mask- the town was still quite a distance away- before taking a drink and finishing the last leg of her journey. Putting on her mask again, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Hopefully this would go well.

She broke out into a jog, and soon was within shouting distance of Heth. The description fit - and many people were standing at the entrance, waiting for her. Sidon sent word, they said, so they must be expecting her arrival…

Amal smiled, her heart racing in anticipation. Her father stood stiffly at her side, with all the priests of Heth, dressed in their ceremonial finery, and she had given herself time to throw on her best shawl as well before hurrying out to the entrance. In the distance, uncountably many insects swirled in the winds around the walking figure - like a wave approaching. It was true then! A spirit had come to Earth and was travelling, coming to them - just as in the days of old!

She muttered a quick prayer of thanks to Adamkadmon; what a joyous day this would be! The wave of bugs reached them, then, and broke over them, filling the air with buzzing and some alarmed cries from the younger children and more fastidious villagers. Amal merely drew her head covering more tightly about her face, and withstood it in joyful silence. Beside her, the priests too drew their veils about their faces, looking out...

"Hello?" someone called. While the swarm of insects had pulled the attention of the crowd every which way, the spirit had arrived at their gates and was standing at the entrance. Amal's eyes - she couldn't help it - roamed all over his body.

The spirit was standing in front of the village, just outside the gate; his shape and size and posture were obscured by the swarms that crawled, flew, hopped, or skipped over him, though none of that elicited any response from him. His face was entirely covered by a mask, and what they could see of the clothing he wore was dark-coloured, evidently the same material as that which Hannibal had presented to them. His hair hung around his shoulders, long, untamed, and wild. Some of the children took a step back, instinctively, fearful, but the priests did not.

Nor did she. To Amal, this was the culmination of months of prayer and years of longing to see the stories in the scrolls. She was looking beyond the physical shape of the spirit - did not even the old legends tell of how Iblis came to Helel in the shape of a hag? - and saw perfection, glory, and wonders. The times had finally changed, and the spirits were once more walking amongst common men.

She felt her father tense up slightly, and then he broke ranks and stepped forwards with a dignified stride. It had been so long since the spirits had come down, that nobody quite knew how to carry out the old rituals anymore; it had simply devolved to Faysal, through the luck of the draw, to be the first representative of Heth towards the god Skitter. As far as Amal was concerned, this was simply another blessing of Adamkadmon upon her house; Faysal had told her of the outcome and what the house of Faysal must sacrifice to him, and she had joyfully agreed. To her this was no sacrifice at all.

"This is the year of the favour of the gods," Faysal intoned. "For we have been chosen to harbour the first of the spirits in returning and are honoured." The god looked at him, the bugs lifting up and leaving the villagers to hover in the sky, casting a haze of fast-moving shadows on the ground and the villagers beneath them. "We have no fat calves or precious jewels to offer, for we are a poor and unwealthy people, yet I pray you, let your wrath be turned away from us for we have prepared for you a sacrifice."

This was her cue, and Amal stepped forward, her face deliberately as blank as she could make it. She had to hold back - if she smiled now, what would the god do? Old legends told that some of the spirits would steal faces when you showed emotion. Her veil was tight against her face, and her breath caught in it - she loosened it, to better hide her face, though her cheeks were flaming red and her heart was racing in her chest.

"See, o great spirit, here is my daughter Amal, a true worshipper, young and healthy, offered to your service," Faysal continued. "To do with as you please, to take her in holy union or as sacrifice for your needs..."

The villagers held their breath, waiting for the response from the god. The priests were the most nervous of them all, they knew that the ritual was not being performed the way it was written in the prayer-books. But it had been many centuries since such rituals had been needed, and none of them had the necessary implements or supplies or practice, and Hannibal had said that Skitter was benevolent and merciful. If he had stopped the locusts from destroying all the fields of Sidon, and had spoken gently to the village leader's grandson, they hoped - they hoped that this substitution would be acceptable. History was full of examples where the spirits had not accepted the changes in the ritual...

The bugs swirling in the air abruptly stopped moving, simply hovering in the air or flying in little circles. "What." said the god in a low and completely un-masculine tone, and - gods help them all - the cloud of bugs above them said it too.

Faysal paled beneath his veil, and nearly took a step backwards. "Are you offering me _**a slave?**_!" Skitter shouted in tandem with her bugs, her voice rising rapidly with each word and almost breaking on the last. Amal too, went absolutely white, eyes widened at the anger in the voice, and actually took a step backwards. The spirit took one deliberate step forwards, and now that her hands were outside her cape and she was so close, she looked surprisingly feminine.

The god gathered her wild bushy hair up in one hand, and the bugs buzzed overhead, speaking every word in tandem with her. As she spoke, she was shooing yet more insects off of her. There was an audible chorus of taken breaths at that, and a good number of women and children shrank back. "I- No. I'm not dealing with _this_ , too." She deliberately unclenched her hands and the bugs began swirling again.

"You!" said the goddess Skitter, suddenly addressing her.

"Eep," said Amal, and hoped very much that that was not going down in the books.

"What is your name?" Skitter asked her, visibly making an effort to not grab her by the shoulders and shake her.

"Amal, my god… dess," said Amal, relieved to still be alive.

The goddess covered her face with a palm, while the other hand made vague flapping motions at her. "Just… just go home. I have no need for a slave or a wife- I'm a girl, and you!" the spirit pointed at Amal's father, her tone going from exasperation to violent irritation in the space of a pause. "Don't just go around giving your daughters away! And I-I don't condone slaves! Just… can I have something to eat or drink? I've been walking around for some time now."

Faysal made a last-ditch attempt at returning the world to a sane state, where spirits actually took what they were offered. "O goddess, I prostrate myself before your righteous wrath! We are unworthy and unlearned, stained by ignorance! Pray do not cast us into -"

The bugs buzzed loudly again, and Faysal's mouth snapped shut. "Fuck me…" Skitter muttered, apparently having found out about the waiting feast and stalking past Amal into the village. "I just want something to eat."

Amal felt her face warm up as the goddess brushed past her. This… this was everything she asked for - a spirit in front of her, she wanted to ask so many questions! To know everything about their world, about their origins! Did Skitter know Helel and Iblis? Had she once met the fiery gods that made the legendary weapons? Was she truly one of the spirits that created the world around them and governed over all nature?

Skitter stopped mid-stride, not turning to her. "What do you want?"

Amal opened her mouth. None of the questions were voiced as she didn't trust herself to speak. Closing her mouth again, she felt her face become hot with embarrassment, and merely trailed along behind Skitter towards the feast. Behind them, the priests and villagers followed in a kind of parade of shared embarrassment.

Heth, like Sidon, was primarily agricultural. Unlike Sidon, they didn't have acres of wheat. Instead, their people reared small animals for fur and meat, and cultivated a variety of fruit trees - some that bore fruit in the summer, some in the fall, and even some that ripened only in winter. Partly as a result of that, the fruit trees had burst out of their original forest and had established inroads into the village, growing wherever a seed had been spat and inadvertently taken root. Trees grew everywhere: by the sides of streets, in the middles of alleys, and almost anywhere else that seeds could sprout. Whatever they did, it was working; all the fruit tasted sweet, and the water here had a similar taste imbued into it from the roots in the ground.

The goddess Skitter was exploring the village on foot, walking about and examining every tree intently. While she responded politely enough to Faysal's attempts to speak to her as well as those of the other priests - at least she had started responding after she had eaten her fill at the feast that first, calamitous day -, she had made it clear enough that she didn't want to talk to them more than she had to. It was already the fourth day, and Amal had been skipping class keeping track of the goddess' movements from a distance all the time, to her tutor's dismay. (His dismay was only compounded by Faysal's nonchalant approval of Amal's behaviour.) At this point, though, Amal was convinced that the goddess Skitter saw things… differently from what the prayer-books had said, and decided to take the risk.

As the goddess Skitter rounded a corner, Amal was waiting for her, bowed down on the ground with her forehead resting on her hands in a pose of utter supplication. She heard the footsteps slow, then stop entirely, right in front of her.

There was a period of time in which everything in Amal's world went silent and dark, apart from the sensations of the pressure of her head on her hands, and the blood rushing through her ears, and the bugs, everywhere - there was a prickling on her leg. An ant? She could take it no longer. "My goddess -"

"You -" said the goddess at the same time.

They both stopped talking, and then Amal held her peace until the goddess spoke again.

"You don't need to wear that veil," spoke the goddess.

A command! Amal hurried to obey, pushing herself up to a kneeling position and unpinning her veil, not even stopping to brush her hands off first. When she looked up at the goddess, however, her eyes widened and tears came into her eyes. She began to tremble, not daring to move even to pin the veil back on. The goddess was staring at her, absolutely _still_ , like the calm before a storm breaks...

Taylor didn't trust herself to speak right then. Fuck it. Fuck it. Stranded so far from Brockton Bay, in this village that she just couldn't feel at ease in, not the way that she had in Sidon, she had just wanted to be alone. And then along came this girl, tailing her everywhere she went even though she'd told the girl to go away - why was she even doing that?

And it was ironic, too, the way it was happening. The first familiar face she'd seen in weeks, and it was Madison's. One of the three girls that had bullied her in school, that had made her trigger. Sure, she sounded different, her tone was softer and more hesitant, and she was trying to be friendly - but that face was all too familiar even if the expression on it wasn't. Is she only trying to get on my side because I'm powerful, the way Madison joined Sophia and Emma?

It's not like she was already convinced that this place was too far from home. It could be just some unmapped island for all she knew. But one of _them_?

She only realised that her fists were clenched, her bugs buzzing slightly, when the tears spilled out of Amal's eyes and the girl flinched away from her. To Amal's credit, she hadn't broken her posture much: though she was trembling and the veil in her hands was growing damp and cold, she remained kneeling before her goddess.

She stopped short. Had she really come so far just to do this? This girl had committed none of Madison's sins, and she had been on the brink of attack. It was almost something only the trio might do. She sighed, dropping her hands back down in a neutral gesture and dispersing her gathered swarm.

She bent over, one hand on her knees and stretching the other one out towards Amal. "Don't worry," she told Amal. "You reminded me of someone - but you are not her."

Amal's shaking stopped when the buzzing ended, but she was still staring frightened at Taylor's hand, as if it might kill her if she touched it.

"Oh, for - come here," Taylor said, sitting down and patting the ground in front of her. Amal obediently scooted forwards without a word, her gaze still not leaving the floor. "I won't hurt you. I need some help."

Taylor took out the map she got from Habib, spreading it out on the ground and pointing at where Heth was marked on it. Amal leaned forwards to look at it as well; the bugs on her told Taylor that she was still trembling.

"I'm planning to go to the capital before winter to find my friends," said Taylor bluntly. She'd told Habib and Hannibal, too, but she was having serious doubts about Hannibal's communication skills. _How did anybody forget to mention that the person arriving would be a girl?!_ "But I'll need some food and water for the journey, and transport. Are there any carriages nearby?"

There were no automobiles in this world; she'd seen people on horseback, but she didn't have the time to learn it even if she wanted to try it. On the other hand, the journey to the capital would be impractical without a carriage - nobody could walk that far alone, carrying all their needed supplies.

"Friede," Amal muttered in a trembling voice, and pulled her hands over her mouth almost immediately, looking wide-eyed at Taylor. She hastily made a sign over her mouth.

"Friede?" Taylor questioned, tilting her head. "Habib of Sidon told me that it was the city of idolaters, and to avoid it."

"It's a city," Amal said, her voice still low, but the tremble had gone out of it. "They maintain trade with Qurt, and transport their goods by carriages that come close to the capital." She thought for awhile, doing the math in her head. "The next caravan to Friede leaves in five days… I'm sure my father can arrange for you to travel with it."

"Ah, I see," Taylor said. "Thank you, Amal."

Amal's face broke open in a smile so wide that Taylor thought her head would split in two - and opening her mouth, she started asking questions.

"Where do you come from? What are your comrades like? Do you know Helel and Iblis? Have you ever-? Did you ever-? Will you ever-? Are you going to…?"

And even though she couldn't answer most of those questions, Taylor was glad. Amal was nice - a friendly person. She would need to stay for a few days to rest and gather provisions anyway, so why not meet the locals?

"The teachers said so many things, you know…" Amal sighed, when it was almost dark and she had run out of questions she could think of to ask. It was hard to ask new questions when the answers to almost everything were "I don't know" or "I can't say," though the goddess had been happy enough to expound on her comrades..

"Teachers?" Taylor asked.

"People who come from the capital to teach the villages," she explained. "We learned reading and writing from them, speaking politely too. 'A pure tongue cannot offend a spirit', they said." She paused, looking away; both she and Taylor thought of that disastrous first day. "Maybe they were wrong about that, though."

"Hmm…" said Taylor. "Interesting."

Taylor stood at the entrance, facing the villagers; most of them still looked rather cautious around her, but everybody had come all the same, if for nothing than to avoid her wrath. All the villagers, that is, but Amal, who had gone missing the evening before and simply couldn't be found anywhere.

Behind her, the loaded caravans waited, full of goods covered by canvas and lashed tightly down. There were two other caravans; one for the tradesmen who would go to Friede to sell the goods, and one for Taylor herself and her supplies, which they had separated from everybody else's.

Faysal was nearing the end of his long and rather fancy speech about her holy pilgrimage, which had far too much about destroying the idols and burning down Friede for Taylor's taste, though she bit her lip and held her tongue until he ended. "...may the winds favour you on your journey, until your pilgrimage ends in success" Faysal said eventually, bowing deeply and obsequiously to her; his face veil drooped, and nearly touched the ground. "And may Friede know the consequences of their idol-worship, and turn from it to the true paths of old."

Yeah, right. Whatever. She had more important things on her mind than what people were praying to. Taylor muttered her response in a polite, if clipped, tone. "Thank you for the fruits, and I shall see you again when my journey is complete. Should you see Amal again, convey to her also my thanks.."

"The goddess is benevolent and too kind, to such a poor father as myself," Faysal replied, rising up from his bow. For all her usually sweet and docile nature, Amal had worsened significantly as the day of Taylor's departure approached; she had constantly asked - no, begged - Taylor to delay for another day or week, even after winter. It seemed she hadn't taken Taylor's determination to be gone well at all.

"It's not your fault," she told him. Her father probably hadn't expected her to become a supervillain either. She wondered how he was doing; Lisa must have already told him some comforting lie, unless she were also somewhere on this world. "Goodbye."

She boarded the caravan, settling in for the ride; it would be a week of travelling, with nobody to talk to except the other caravaneers. That was okay. She could handle that; she had her bugs.

When they finally stopped to rest the horses that drew the carts and caravans, Taylor nearly exploded with relief. How had anybody ever gotten through long journeys before phones were invented? She could only weave some stuff for so long before she had to do something else. She had tried sleeping, playing "I Spy" with herself, gathering bugs, categorising the gathered bugs, identifying the bugs that she'd never met on Earth Bet, and a variety of other things, and had still spent the last few hours in a stupor of boredom, unable to sleep or think of anything to do. They were resting early, though; there was still at least an hour or so before sundown...

And sending her bugs all around, she found someone. Someone wedged in between the crates, and she told the people to stop.

"No wonder they all wrote such long books back then," she muttered to herself as she got out of the caravan. The caravaneers had gathered in a small knot of activity: setting up the campfire, feeding the horses, and going back over the cargo carts to check for loosened knots or wheels. She looked at them, wondering if she should offer to help.

Taylor slowly moved towards the crates where she felt the person with her bugs and grabbed in between, pulling someone out with a small squeak. The men heard it, rushed up to her and the person that immediately threw herself to the floor was Amal, groveling and crying. The men came up to hold her still...

"Forgive me! Please forgive me!" she was exclaiming, frightened. "I just wanted - oh, goddess, sweet goddess Skitter, please have mercy -"

"Let her down," said Taylor, her shoulders slumping. No wonder nobody had managed to find her; she'd squeezed herself in with the cargo heading to Friede. "Amal. Do you even know -"

She was interrupted by Amal immediately throwing herself to the ground again, prostrate with her head to the floor in what was becoming an annoyingly familiar pose. "Mercy! Mercy! I just couldn't bear the thought of you leaving me. Please take me with you!"

"-what," said Taylor in a disbelieving undertone, and put her face in her palm. "Oh, fine. Get up."

Amal's face could only be described as exceptionally joyful. Taylor had a feeling that Amal would have decided to follow her anyway, had she been sent back.


	3. The Siege of Friede

Spirit of Nature 3 (EDITED!) - "The sky was black - for she pulled her wrath over the sun." - Vaan of Friede to Saul of Qurt.

* * *

Amal had made the journey to Friede from Heth before, when she was six or so, before Friede became the hive of idols that it now was. By caravan or by cart - or, one memorable time, by foot, when they had actually found themselves attacked by bandits - the route was fairly mundane. They travelled past vast patches of empty land, where wheat or barley or other such crops had once stood. On the other side were rolling forests and occasionally views of other small villages. It used to be a dangerous route, with attacks from bandits and wild animals being common, but those were less so now. Apparently, even the bandits avoided the idolaters like a plague.

All the same, the caravaneers were carrying their crude weapons, though they did not fear at all. The goddess Skitter was with them.

"So, besides the whole thing with the idolaters, what's Friede like?" Skitter asked. She was lounging on the caravan seats, a small pile of dates and a bowl of honey beside her. Next to the bowl was another pile of date-seeds, and a water-skin. _She must really like those…_ Amal shook her head, clearing her thoughts.

"It's a great trade city, and acts as a market between all the villages in these parts, and the capital; every village goes there to trade, or used to before the idolaters took power," Amal said. "They still do, but… It's becoming difficult, because every year they close themselves off more and more. I've heard rumours of new trade routes with the other villages, but I've never gone." She sighed, sitting back and leaning her head against the jolting wall of the caravan.

"Their soil is fertile enough that they don't need trade to survive. There's even a saying about it - 'when a seed falls in Friede, a great tree grows'. It used to be said that a spirit had blessed them, but… not any more." She shrugged gently, feeling the weight of the spider-silk robe on her shoulders; the goddess Skitter had begun making it for her both as a way to pass the time and as a sign of her service. It was still a work in progress, which was why she was sitting so carefully, she didn't want to alarm the spiders in their work, or worse kill them. "They used to have many artisans, but many of them refused to remain and subvert their skills to the making of idols, and left for Qurt." She said that last with pride in the devotion of the artisans.

"Qurt," repeated goddess Skitter, nibbling on yet another honey-dripping date. "You've mentioned that city quite a few times, too. What is Qurt like?"

Amal tapped her mouth, thinking. She'd never been to Qurt, and everything she knew about it came from books or the things she heard from the traders. "That's… hard to explain," she muttered. "It's a very… feminine city? They say the waters of Qurt were blessed by Mamitu, and the women there bear nine girls for every boy."

"Hmm…" goddess Skitter said. "Interesting." The conversation died down for a bit, as she readjusted her posture on the seat to be slightly more comfortable. "Now tell me about…"

Taylor wasn't sure when it had happened, but at some point the rough grinding mud-and-stone under the caravan wheels had given way to hard-packed dirt, and then to an actual stone road. They rumbled into Friede near late evening, passing under the giant laurel crest on the arch of the gates just in time, before the gates closed behind them.

Getting out of the caravan, she was struck by the contrast between Friede and Heth, or even Sidon; the main streets were cobblestone, and lamplights had begun to show up near the inns and stations where travellers were expected to turn in their horses and carriage for the night.

The news of the Goddess Skitter's arrival had not been sent ahead, or more likely, had been completely ignored as unlike Heth, there was no crowd gathered, no feast or bedding prepared for the most undoubtedly weary goddess and her companions. Amal bristled at the scandalous blasphemy of it, but Taylor restrained her from barging into the first decent-looking inn they saw and demand the best room they had for free, for did they not know the honour that was being offered them - well, Taylor hadn't quite managed to restrain her the first time, but she'd managed to drag Amal out of the inn and get the irate girl to quiet down.

They had then pooled the money they had, mostly received from offerings, and eventually found a simpler room in one of the inns; there was a table and two beds close to another. It took Taylor a great amount of arguing until Amal actually accepted taking the offerings she received for that. Amal insisted on sleeping on the floor in her finished spider-silk robe, even though there was another bed available for her, and Taylor didn't push, though she did change her clothes and sponge the dirt from her skin before going to bed.

Friede was big, almost deceptively so from street level. It had huge walls around the whole city that stretched out in angles that made it hard to gauge from the main road (and it seemed forests had been planted outside for the express purpose of hiding parts of the walls); while it didn't reach even half the size of Brockton Bay it was large enough for thousands of people to live in.

The streets, Taylor could see in the light of day, were patterned cobblestone, and had probably had patterns when they were new and constant use had not overlaid them with a semi-permanent, shifting cloud of fine dust. The buildings and houses had fared somewhat better, and their slate-grey or ivory white stone bricks stood regally against the sky, the square outlines interrupted by staircases, balconies, or other small architectural decorations. She hadn't seen buildings taller than a couple of stories in awhile, she realised.

Unlike the wooden shacks she had seen up to now, the walls of the city made you feel as if behind a tower shield or inside a bunker. Taylor wondered what they were made to defend against; they hadn't seen any wild animals or bandits, and yet Friede had walls, guards, and what seemed to be a standing army; her bugs, spread out around the city, told her that some distance off, a group of people were going through a routine with polearms.

In Sidon and Heth, her mask and suit of spider-silk had attracted stares and worship. In Friede, they seemed to make her invisible: people actually seemed to ignore her on purpose as they moved forward. A few of the guards, identifiable by the laurel crest of the city that they wore on their breastplates, shot her suspicious looks but left her alone; they were probably confident that they could handle one trouble maker.

"We need a more permanent place to stay," Taylor commented after some hours of walking around the city and scouting it out with her bugs. "Could you go and find us one? A cheap one would be best," Taylor asked Amal, though from the way Amal took it, you would have thought it was a holy command - and, in a certain sense, it probably was. The girl nodded at once and left, though Taylor put a few more bugs on her just in case.

While Amal was gone, Taylor began sweeping through the people around her for finer detail. It was easy; people here washed less than they had back in Brockton Bay, and flies, mosquitoes, lice, and ants were absolutely everywhere - in addition to the good old staple of cockroaches and spiders. She blinked. Unlike the villages, where people were lightly clothed if at all and seldom armed, the people here tended to wear heavier clothing and often carried daggers at their side. While not particularly threatening to her, it was a concern.

A bigger concern, though, was her need for a carriage - but how would she pay? She'd avoided having to pay for anything so far because of her status as goddess (and to think, she reflected, that she hadn't wanted that title in the first place), but right now it would have been convenient to be able to simply commandeer a carriage to Qurt or the capital. She did wish Lisa was here; she was sure that her friend could have arranged that without any difficulty at all.

She found some more heavily-clothed citizens - guards, she realised, her flies crawling over their badges before being shooed off - watching other citizens praying. But other than the religious overtones throughout Friede and the ubiquity of weapons, Friede seemed much more peaceful than the thick walls suggested.

Suddenly, one of the bugs on Amal was crushed, and the others registered a sudden fall and a jolt at the end of it, far in the periphery of Taylor's sense, and she was jarred into action. People did stop and stare, then, as the girl in the strange costume ran through streets and crowds, and small streams of insects directed themselves towards her target.

The bugs arrived there first, swarms of mosquitoes and bees and cockroaches pouring through the air. Taylor knew everything in the building minutes before she actually burst into the room to find Amal on the ground, curled up and cradling one arm close to her chest. There was a knife beside her, and a roiling mass of biting, stinging insects that would have been causing him to scream if the man hadn't been afraid to open his mouth.

Taylor knelt beside Amal, and the bugs began to lift off of the man, revealing a dark-skinned body already beginning to swell. The man's eyes were wide and bloodshot, and he was trembling in his robes where he lay, unable to pull himself together enough to move.

"Get them off!" he shouted, finally trusting himself to speak, terror in his voice. "Get them off! Please!"

Taylor turned her head to glare at him, and he quailed under the force of it, falling mostly silent apart from his whimpering as the insects continued crawling over him, though they had stopped biting and stinging as soon as she saw that Amal was in no further danger. "You assaulted. My. Companion," Taylor said, deadly slow and punctuating every word for emphasis before the words came rushing out. "With a knife! If she wasn't wearing that robe, you could have _KILLED_ her!"

Turning away from the man, Taylor bent down to help Amal into a kneeling position. The bugs told her that he was remaining perfectly still, and that nobody was coming to help them, so she took Amal's arm and gently lifted up the robe, exposing the bloodied arm to look at the wound.

"It's not deep," Taylor said with some relief. "We can take care of this easily - but it will hurt for some time."

Amal nodded dumbly, still crying from the pain. A few of the citizens mumbled something about a leader, and left.

The building was dark, swathed in a swirling storm of insects both in the air and on the ground. It had been more than a week since Taylor had needed to call on them so violently, and she was struck yet again by the strength of her powers there, where there seemed to be so little need for them. A crowd of people had gathered around the outside of the building, at safe distances, and nobody dared to stand in her way or meet her gaze as she appeared. Amal came in her wake, stumbling and weeping from the wound in her arm, though it had stopped bleeding.

The dark shadow of the insects travelled with her as she walked to the city centre looking up to the large idol that stood there. It was made of many different kinds of wood, skillfully carved and put together like a jigsaw puzzle - or a Tinker's devices, thought Taylor - in three dimensions. It looked like a female figure, though the curves of the body's shape gave way to branch-like protrusions, and her head bore leafy vines instead of hair. Amal stood behind her, grasping Taylor's arm slightly. She could see a small symbol etched at the base of the idol, almost hidden amidst the offerings, rolled-up prayer scripts, and sacred inscriptions to Kayumanis of Friede. It looked like a stylised, upside-down u, and below it was written: 'Cold-ruin rules'. When she pointed at it and asked Amal, the girl just shook her head.

"No idea," she said. "Perhaps it is another idol of theirs."

Taylor only nodded, turning away - and almost bumping into a thin woman, nervously twisting a rag in her hands. The woman immediately backed off a distance, glancing around as if afraid she would be seen or heard.

"If - if it would please you, nature spirit," she quickly gabbled, her eyes downcast; when Taylor stepped towards her, her voice lowered to a mumble in which Taylor could barely make out the phrases "mercy on Friede", "my house", and "small hospitality".

"We would be glad to accept," said Amal's voice from behind Taylor, and the girl came forwards to stand straight beside her goddess - though one of her arms was still applying pressure to the wound on her arm.

The woman's face relaxed, and she immediately mumbled something and hastily walked off into a street, indicating that they should follow; when they did, they found themselves led to a small dingy house.

"My name is Mahu," she said, her voice still tight and nervous despite their being alone. She had seated Taylor and Amal at the table, in two rickety chairs, and had none left for herself. Not that she needed any; she was digging through cabinets all the time she was speaking. "One of the remaining believers of Friede, after Imir turned all of the others aside." She came up with some clean rags and a jar of dark, sticky ointment. "Please, priestess, hold your arm still and I will do what little I can…"

"Imir," said Taylor, as Amal made little gasps of pain; Mahu had deftly reopened the wound and was packing the ointment thickly about it.

Two hours later, Taylor and Amal were still sitting at the table, while the woman had overturned a bucket after emptying it out, and was sitting on that. They had been eating hard bread and meat scraps, and some fruit - the reserves of the woman's meagre resources. It had mostly been Mahu talking, so far, with only occasional short interjections or answers from Taylor.

Suddenly a bell clanged, so loudly that it echoed around the room, and Mahu's face paled, breaking off mid-sentence and throwing herself from the bucket to the floor, almost clutching Taylor's ankles. "The bell! Save us, goddess!"

Taylor reached out through her bugs. The streets were practically empty of people, with the remaining ones running into any houses or shops nearby them; some distance away, at the source of the sound, a man was frantically pulling at a bell in a high tower.

"We're under attack," moaned Mahu, but it was hard to tell whether her tone was fearful or grateful. "Soldiers, by the sound of it. King Amram must have sent his army to liberate Friede from the worship of the false gods!"

Taylor only nodded quickly, trying to get a grasp of the situation with her bugs. The soldiers hadn't yet penetrated Friede's gates, but her range was not so great that she could tell what was going on outside the city.

"Now?" Amal murmured, her tones expectant. "They left this city for nearly a decade, rotting in the hands of these heathens. I say it's about time!"

"They'll probably lay a siege or use their catapults and archers," pointed out Taylor.

Both Amal and Mahu dropped their faces into their hands, and Amal could be heard mumbling "Why?"

"Because I have bad luck," Taylor said, making Amal grin slightly. "How is your arm?"

Amal touched her arm gingerly, near the wound, and winced a little. "It hurts, still. Less, thanks to Mahu's assistance, and not as bad as it could have been, thanks be to the goddess' protection."

There was a crashing noise, a ragged scream, and then the sound of something large, heavy, and wooden falling onto something… much less so. The bell-ringing faltered and stopped, and a cry went up from the streets.

"Kayumanis! They have struck Kayumanis!" a woman wailed. "Call for the soldiers!"

"A false god," Amal said with her mouth twisted in a smile, trying to look outside for the fallen idol. "Unable even to defend itself against the onslaught of true belief."

At the table, Mahu clasped her hands in vindicated prayer.

"Okay," Taylor nodded, coming immediately to a decision. She got up and out of the door, her bugs gathering around her in a buzzing cloud of wings and chitin that hid and distorted any sight of her. Her bugs told her that Amal and Mahu were coming out as well, behind her; Mahu was lagging behind, and Amal was shouting to her.

The streets were empty apart from the three of them, but up ahead she could see the gates opening to allow the military guard of Friede out. Behind them was a man dressed in expensive-looking clothes and standing regally - probably the ruler, then.

The gates opened fully, and the city guard… faltered, was the only way to say it. There were massive battering rams being pulled into position, and behind them were siege-engines, already loaded - in fact, they fired just as the gates opened, and the whoosh of the projectiles ended in loud, dull, distant thumps and screaming voices. A man was seated on some kind of mobile platform, surveying it, and in between all of those were horses and riders, bristling with armor and weaponry. There was a shouted signal, and the weapons fell into practiced positions. A moment later, there was a similar response on the Friede side.

"Okay," repeated Taylor to herself more emphatically, angry. No matter where, people couldn't stop fighting, it seemed. She came to a halt in the street, and then every insect in her range began coming to her. The bugs gathered like a tidal wave, swarms of them building a blanket that spiralled into the sky, buzzing loudly to draw the attention of everyone around them as they spread out like a blanket.

And just like that, the day was turned into night. It was theatrical, but it worked; the two commanders turned to her, making signals, and the armed forces stopped moving.

"I am Amal!" her friend shouted, hurrying forward; the spidersilk robe hung around her shoulders, carefully arranged to hide the new stitches where Taylor had repaired the stab wound. "Behold the goddess Skitter, who has come as the first of the spirits of nature returning to men! Bow down before her and abandon your idols, o Imir, that she may be merciful upon you and overlook the sins you have committed in her eyes!" Her voice was high, nearly hysterical, but carried well in the utter stillness.

Taylor would have helped without that, and would have said so, except that the city's armed forces were already turning around - their backs to the army outside - and, judging by the fingers suddenly pointing in her direction, engaging in fierce theological debate. She sighed. Why even bother trying to convince them otherwise?

Or maybe she was the abnormal one in a world of normal people, she thought, as the forces of Friede parted to let the soldiers from outside enter, peacefully and headed by the crowned man who had dismounted from his platform.

"Halt!" the crowned young man shouted, raising his arm in a regal, commanding gesture. The two-hundred men behind him stopped, trying to keep their fear off their faces, which only the ones with helmets managed to pull off.

The crest on their armor was different than the one from Friede - a single sword pointed upwards, small red dots visible on it, though the crest was on different parts of the armor for each soldier. The knights had iron armor, rather than the thick leather of Friede's guards, all looking a bit differently. Red capes flowed down their backs and hung over their left shoulders, with the same crest worked into the center of the fabric.

The bugs carpeting the sky suddenly fell, like rain, rushing through the ranks of men and apparently dissipating entirely into the city, though Taylor knew better. She had bugs on every single one of the armed forces and their horses, machinery, or tools, and more on the gates or in the sewers. The ones that she didn't choose to hide, she formed into bug clones that stood amongst the men. Even at a distance, she could see the effect she was having on them and their horses.

Good. Taylor may not have liked the idolaters for their attempt to murder Amal, but unnecessary bloodshed wouldn't do any good here. It was obvious that the men behind her were inexperienced by the way they held their daggers.

The crowned man walked towards them, his palms open and fingers spread. A gesture that said 'Look how I'm not grabbing the big sword strapped to my back'. Taylor waited for him, a small contingent of bugs covering her. He may have looked relaxed, but it was a confidence like Armsmaster's - and like the Tinker, he had more equipment on him than could be seen at first glance. Unlike the Tinker, Taylor had already found all his equipment and positioned bugs on them; if he tried to pull any surprises on her, he would receive a stinging lesson.

His eyes were green - a strange shade of the color she had probably never seen outside of pictures from gorgeous models in her world, while his hair was black, shoulder-length, unkempt and dirty. He had a serious look, but despite his unwashed appearance, had no visible scars on his flesh or scratches on his armour. As he approached, she could see a crest stamped into his crown, identical to the one on his armour and on the backs of the robes; the capital's crest, perhaps?.

"Who are you, sorceror?!" he demanded loudly as he approached. "I, Prince Aaron, have brought the Royal Army of Elamia in the name of King Amram, rightful ruler of this city. What is your place here?"

"I'm Skitter, not a sorcerer," Taylor said, annoyed by his tone. It reminded her too much of people in power, demanding respect simply for putting their ass in a fancy chair. Besides which - they really had kings here. Who still had kings? Pretty much all the royalty she could remember in her world were figureheads more than actual rulers.

"A city of idolaters," Aaron spoke, his lips curling in something between a sneer and a snarl. "With their own pet sorcerer, now. It is a pity that your false god did not teach you to speak with your betters, when they gave you your bag of tricks."

Amal pushed her way forwards, incandescent with anger. Her injured arm stretched out, pointed accusingly at Prince Aaron. "How dare you!" Amal said, before Taylor could stop her. "How dare you, Prince Aaron, to talk to a spirit of nature like that? Is that the upbringing of a prince in the palaces of Elamia?"

"Him, a spirit?" Aaron spat, and it was clearly a sneer now. Taylor grit her teeth. Another guy who thought she was a man. Was it the bugs? Maybe it was the bugs. He cast a pitying look on Amal. "The spirits are gone, child, never to return. Faith will not bring them back, and blind faith will not help your family bring the food to their table."

"Look at this!" shouted Amal, her hand waving out like a backhand. "She darkened the sky as a sign to you, and raised up her men amongst yours. She has stopped your hand from the blood of the men of Friede, for she is benevolent and kind. For they, too, raised their hand against her, and against me, her priestess." She glared at Prince Aaron, and for a moment Taylor could see it in her posture, her hair streaming from her uncovered head and the righteous fury in her eyes, the prophet rebuking the wayward prince. "Bow down before her and pay her obeisance, Prince Aaron of Elamia, and she may yet overlook your gross disrespect."

Aaron looked angry at her words, and even though he seemed ready to send his men into battle, Taylor heard their whispers.

They believed Amal, and weren't ready to fight her. She knew it, and so did Prince Aaron. His posture relaxed, only marginally, and Amal's followed.

Prince Aaron capitulated first. "Praise the goddess," he said in a dry tone, making her a bow that she couldn't be sure wasn't ironic. "Harbinger of hope and mistress of the skies and earth."

Taylor still wasn't happy at being called a spirit, or goddess or whatever, but it had served its purpose so far, and it came with significant side benefits. She approached the Prince, giving him a simple nod of acknowledgment and gestured to the armed forces behind him. "You are here to take the city from the idolaters, aren't you?"

Prince Aaron nodded belatedly, as if having expected her to talk for a lot longer. "The goddess has grasped the situation with clarity," he began, and Taylor cut him off before he could launch into another of those maybe-ironic speeches.

"Very well," said Taylor, and turned slightly so that she wasn't standing between the Prince and the citizens of Friede - who had started creeping out of their houses to see the show. "Citizens of Friede!" she shouted, her voice amplified by the buzzing swarms that she now called out of the places she had hidden them in earlier. "See this day my benevolence and mercy, and turn back from your idols! Raise up a proof of your faith, and you shall live!"

There was a shocked murmur, which built up into a cry, and people rushed at the giant statue of Kayumanis with chisels and saws, led by Mahu. The shouting was soon punctuated by the sounds of tools striking wood.

 _Hopefully that should be enough,_ Taylor thought.

"As for you," Taylor turned to Prince Aaron, her tone angry. Prince Aaron simply shifted his weight, subtly enough that she might have missed it if not for the bugs on his body. He'd been trained, she could tell; the knife hidden at his thigh was inches from his fingers, and his weight was resting on the balls of his feet. "Cut down on the violence and killing. None of that, not on your own people."

Amal was standing by, listening raptly to her words. Taylor sighed, realising everything she was going to say would end up being repeated to everybody she met for awhile. _Way to keep off the pressure._ .

"I don't want people hurt just because they're... different," Taylor said, reminded of home. It seemed that everywhere you went, people like Kaiser or Hookwolf - or, for that matter, Lung or Bakuda - existed, in various forms. All you could do was to fight them off or to give in to them - which she had just done, because she saw it as inevitable; this was simply the way to it that didn't end in thousands of people dead. "Peace is preferable."

"And thus she has spoken," Amal said. "Blood shall taint the earth no more, and every faith shall be accepted. Do you disagree, prince Aaron?"

"I hear the words of the goddess, and humbly obey," the prince said, too polite to grind his teeth, not polite enough to completely hide the working of his jaw. "What else may I offer the goddess, that she may be appeased from her wrath upon me and mine? I have no sons to offer."

 _Doesn't surprise me,_ Taylor thought to herself. "I have no need for… slaves. Or husbands. But… the capital," Taylor said, making everyone turn to her. After a while she realized how she said it, and shook her head. "I wish to visit the capital, maybe some of my comrades have been or will be there."

Aaron nodded, and turned back to his knights, ordering them to put their weapons away and stand down. Slowly the bugs lifted away in streams and trickles, much the way Grue's smoke would wisp away, and spread themselves out into the air or the ground. Soon the sunlight was breaking through, revealing the blue of the sky again, though now and then a fast-moving shadow would remind any lookers that the bugs were not gone, merely at a distance.

"First of all," Taylor said, dismissing Aaron and turning to Amal. "Let us get something to eat, I'm famished." When she turned her back on him, it was a show of confidence, obvious to all: she didn't fear anything he might do to her with her back turned. Besides, they were surrounded; the leader of Friede, Imir, had gathered the city-guard around them in a loose circle, though their weapons too had been sheathed.

Her comment was overheard by the leader and the city-guard, and one of them stepped forwards eagerly, interrupting Imir in the midst of formulating a speech. "Please, come to my home!" he invited in an almost begging tone. "My wife bakes the best bread in all of Elamia, I vouch it, and the fruits in our gardens are the ripest everywhere! It would be the least we could do for your guidance and protection!"

"A celebration!" intoned Imir of Friede, his face solemn. Taylor couldn't help thinking he looked more like a god than she did; his hair, moustache, and beard were pristine white and unbound beneath the helmet, and stirred in the wind. "Let all Friede know -"

"Don't worry about it," Taylor told him, her smile hidden beneath the mask. "It could be the worst and I would still appreciate it," She turned to Imir. "Thank you, but you don't have to celebrate. I helped because I wanted to. Don't worry about the prince, I have an eye on him."

The man nodded, and the foot soldier took off at a run into the city, doubtless to call his wife to preparations. Taylor turned to her only real friend in this world, and saw Amal beaming with joy, pride, and not a little satisfaction.

"Truly I have seen the benevolence of Skitter revealed," Amal said, her cheeks flushing red. "For you took me in as your high priestess, saved my life by your robe, and have now protected all Friede against the strikes of the Prince, tho' they be gross idolaters and worshippers of false gods. Praise Skitter!" And she made to drop to her knees right there.

"Stand up," Taylor said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms, but smiling, relieved. "You're still injured."

The remaining men whispered amongst each other, before a barked command from Imir made them turn and follow him away; as they passed by her, she could almost swear their lips were moving in silent, half-remembered prayers. At the same time, Prince Aaron made her a short, stiff bow before turning and returning to his troops, massing them outside the city-gates.

Amal smiled at her - a wide and genuine smile that made Taylor feel happier and more at ease.

"Besides, you'd have followed me even if I told you not to," Taylor continued. Just like that, Amal's face turned into the most unhealthy shade of red Taylor had ever seen seen on a human face.

"I-I-It's not like that!" Amal exclaimed, flustered, waving her hands in front of her. "I-if you had told me to stay…" She spun around, facing away from Taylor and standing still for a moment, and then burst out: "It's not like that at all!" and dashed into the depths of the city, apparently heading directly for Mahu.

"Amal, stop!" Taylor shouted. "If you run like that you'll hurt your arm more!"

A wailing "I don't caaaaaaare!" was the only answer she got from the girl. Taylor gave a helpless shrug.

They were sitting at the table, on carved wooden chairs with rush seats, speaking with the city guardsman who had invited them in. He had introduced himself as Vaan, and then had paraded his wife and his children before them - Taylor had given up trying to remember their names, but Amal had enthusiastically greeted the children - and then had taken them on a short tour of his neighbourhood, down to the fruit trees, while his wife put the finishing touches to her dinner preparations.

He was a relative newcomer to Friede, he had told her, having only moved in five years back. The idolaters had not spread their influence so far or become so aggressive, then - they had sent out missionaries, but had persuaded with logic rather than converted by force. He had found that refreshing.

His house was… clean. The walls were cut of the same stone as the city walls, and most of the furniture was wooden. It also was much bigger than Hannibal's had been, consisting of multiple rooms that seemed too many even for a family as big as theirs. A portrait of Vaan and his entire family was hung up in the living room. From the way Amal had admired it when she saw it, it was clearly expensive. Come to think of it, Taylor realised, she had seen very few pictures of anybody since arriving.

"You seem to know a lot about Friede," said Vaan to Amal, his tone complimentary. "Have you travelled much? I'm sure I would have recognised you if you came with the regular traders."

"I had a friend who left home for Friede," Amal said. She had only one hand on the table, and was eating rather clumsily; her running had, as Taylor warned, re-opened the stab wound in her other arm. Taylor had found Mahu putting fresh bandages on the arm, but Amal would not be able to use it for some time. She focused on the food in her hand as she was speaking, and spoke slowly as if choosing her words carefully. "She was badly sick, once, when the missionaries came. They claimed to heal her body, but took her mind and soul… she got healthy, but then she went with them."

"Friede is large, and there are many people here from many place," Vaan admitted, smiling at his wife as she put some food on the table. "Thank you, my heart - as I said, though, there are many people here, and it is quite possible to go your whole life and not meet everybody. But if you want, I can put the word out for your friend to be found..."

Amal looked up, her jaw grim-set. "I don't want to meet her - she betrayed us. Betrayed _me_." Her tone was angry.

Taylor put a sympathetic hand on Amal's shoulder. "She was your friend, wasn't she?"

"Yes," Amal said, traces of unwillingness in her tone.

"I had a friend too, once," Taylor said. "She was my best friend - we had no secrets between each other. Even when my mother died, she was there for me…"

Amal's eyes widened, whipping her head towards Taylor and staring. Taylor shook her head, and the question died on Amal's tongue. Elsewhere around the table, conversation died as everybody began to turn to Taylor to listen.

"But one day, she stopped talking to me," Taylor continued, her tone as dry as she could make it. "She found someone else, another friend - and just like that she started to… make my life harder - trying to show her new friend how strong she was." Dead silence, as the listeners struggled to understand the actions of the spirits.

Taylor paused to look for the right words to continue, and Amal jumped in. "How did you punish them, o goddess? Such an insult to the friendship and to yourself could not have been allowed!"

"I didn't," Taylor said, and Amal's mouth fell open with shock. "I endured - telling myself I would be better than them. And even though she used every secret against me, and even though I was hurt, I'm here and she isn't." At least, as far as Taylor knew.

"But you don't want to see her either," Amal muttered, looking away again. "How can you even speak of this - this -" Amal appeared to be trying to find a sufficiently strong expletive, and failed - " this thing so easily?"

"I might not want to see her," said Taylor, picking up a few platters, piled high with bread, fruit, meat, and sauces. "But that doesn't mean I don't miss our friendship. I made some new friends, who were there for me when I needed them. Don't think leaving you and your village is the worst that she could have done." Standing and turning to Vaan and his wife, she nodded. "Thank you for the food."

Vaan and his wife smiled before the latter stood, gathering up even more platters and a skin of water, and opened the door to the private room that Taylor had requested for eating in. Before the door closed, she heard knocking on it. She opened it to see Amal, her face strangely downcast.

"My goddess," Amal said. "We are… we are friends, aren't we?"

"Yes," Taylor agreed, wondering why Amal was asking.

"Then why won't you show me your face?" the girl asked. Taylor stopped, rigid at the unexpected question and confused.

Yes, why hadn't she? Nobody here knew who she was, thought her powers were some godly work…

Had she been Skitter for so long that she forgot what it was to be Taylor Hebert? It was as if the mask was glued onto her face - and she would never be able to take it off anywhere but in private.

"This mask," Taylor said, standing stock-still at the door, preventing it from opening wider but not closing it either, "The mask is something to protect me - my identity. Where I come from, showing your face could mean your doom."

"But… the realms of the spirits only held spirits, didn't they?"

"No, yes… I…" Taylor shook her head, looking at the door. She wouldn't believe whatever she tried to explain if she tried to say the truth. "There are evil people too, and after something that happened long ago, everyone started to wear masks, so those that hated you couldn't find your family by knowing your face."

Amal was silent for a moment.

"Do you think I hate you, o goddess?"

"Of course you don't," Taylor sighed, clenching her fist and stepping back from the door. "Come in."

Slowly the door opened, Amal pushing herself through with as small a gap as possible, and shutting the door again the moment she was through. Taylor put her hands to her mask, undoing it and slipping it over her head. A moment as she replaced the mask's tinted lenses with her glasses, and she let the mask fall from her hand.

The mask hit the floor with a thud, but Taylor didn't look at Amal. The girl looked like Madison, but was a lot kinder, a lot friendlier. If she had had a friend like that on the other side, she wondered, how would things have gone? Not better, she thought, not when someone like Sophia appeared -

Her thoughts were cut off when Amal came up to her and hugged her, burying her face in Taylor's shoulder. "Thank you, goddess Skitter," she whispered.

She patted the top of Amal's head and sighed, hoping she wouldn't regret that. This was Amal, after all. Hopefully Tattletale and the others found a way here soon - this world was making it hard for her to miss home.

"What are friends for?" Taylor asked rhetorically. "Don't worry about it, just bring your food in and we will eat together."

Amal gave her a watery smile when she let go and rushed out the door to bring her plate with her, almost slamming the door in her haste.

She just couldn't help it - Amal and her, they were not so different at all, betrayed by their best friends, only their fathers remaining on their side and believing…

Another twinge plucked at her mind, as Taylor wondered what her Dad was doing. Lisa had probably told him _something_ comforting and untrue by now, or he was just running through all of Brockton Bay shouting her name.

One day she would have to leave - or abandon all hope of ever leaving. Right now, Taylor wasn't sure which was worse.

Prince Aaron had come prepared for an ugly siege. Though his campaign had turned out much more peaceful, he and his men had still remained encamped outside Friede, living on their supplies for the most part and Friede's produce for the remainder. Most of the men were in the city, helping reconstruction efforts, but the entire group of them were ready to drop everything and move out whenever Skitter gave the word.

They spent two days more there, giving Amal's arm time to heal under the ministrations of the doctors and allowing Skitter to oversee the reconstruction efforts. It was a pleasant side-effect that this also allowed them to eat fully of the harvest of Friede, and to load up the small carriage that the people of Friede had given to Skitter, to travel to the capital in.

On the third day the carriage was loaded, and Taylor and Amal were standing by. They were ready to go, but the prince's men were busily cleaning up their encampment to remove all trace of their having been there.

There were footsteps, running towards them. "Stop," someone called from behind them, weakly. "Please, o goddess, if you have mercy, stop…"

The carriage driver shouted a command, and the horses were pulled up short, bringing the carriage to a juddering halt. Taylor and Amal both stepped out, looking at the girl who had fallen to her knees. She was dark-skinned, her dark hair bound up by a hairband, and her dress left her shoulders free; its hem was shortened, and she was wearing leggings rather than the ankle-length hem that was more customary here. She looked up, face flushed with exertion, and Taylor went cold: she was the spitting image of Sophia Hess, though - as had been the case with Amal's compared to Madison's - the expression on it was starkly foreign.

"My goddess," she said, her forehead down… in Amal's direction, not in Skitter's. "And her priestess… I'm… I'm so sorry - so sorry for abandoning you…"

"Who are y-" Taylor's question was cut off by Amal, stepping forward and glaring at the grovelling girl.

"Iman!" she hissed. "You…"

"I'm so sorry!" Iman shouted into the dusty ground, spots of it darkening where tears fell. "I'm so sorry, so sorry! Amal, I'm so sorry…"

Amal approached the girl, as if to kick her; perhaps preemptively, Iman reached out and grabbed the hem of Amal's robes. She looked up, tear-streaked. .

"I'm so sorry…" she said again. Taylor sighed - this couldn't be Sophia Hess, it was just too impossible…

"See," Taylor said, moving forward and bending down to help the girl to her feet, as Amal looked on confusedly. Iman was a sight - dust had gathered all down the front of her dress and leggings, and caked on her face where her tears had run. "That is the difference between your best friend and mine."

Amal nodded, looking away.

"Hello," Taylor said. "I'm Skitter - Amal told me a bit about you."

"I…"

"Don't say you are sorry," Taylor cut her off. "Just be happy you could talk to your friend again."

 _Not everyone has a chance to,_ Taylor thought bitterly.

"Thank you," Sophia… no, Iman said. "I will give my life for you, o spirit. Please forgive my sins…"

"There is nothing to forgive," Taylor sighed. Amal glanced at her again, but she just shrugged. "Maybe you should leave for your village again? I'm sure your parents must be worried…"

"My parents are gone, milady," Iman said, making Amal nod at Taylor's glance. "I… I have no place to go…"

"You can stay in Friede," Amal said, not as angry as she was before. Taylor smiled.

"I don't want to stay at a place with memories of my betrayal," Iman admitted. "I did something horrible to you, Amal… I'm so-"

"Stop apologizing!" Amal shouted. "It's enough! I get it, you're sorry! Just stop it!"

Iman looked like a kicked puppy, still crying and holding onto Amal's robes after Taylor helped her stand up.

"Let us take her with us," Taylor suggested, making Amal stare at her. "Just until the capital - I'm sure we can find a place for her to stay."

"Yes," Amal said, her tone dry and resigned. "That would be for the best."

Iman's smile equaled Amal's after she saw Taylor's face in Vaan's home. They stepped into the carriage again and it moved towards the prince's camp.

Taylor sighed.

She was sitting in a carriage. Beside her were her companions - Amal and Iman. Outside, surrounding them, were _knights_ , in actual plate and chainmail, and riding horses with flags and banners; she knew also that there were siege engines and catapults being dragged along behind them, in the distance. It wasn't as if the armor was unusual, in itself; she had seen capes dressed in that style. Sometimes it was like capes had a contest without rules about who could have the most ridiculous outfit. It was… not that she had thought about making her costume with huge wings before settling on what she had eventually built. Of course not. They were most certainly not ideas for menacing bee wings. Anyway, a knight wasn't that unusual. But a few hundred of them at one spot? It was like something out of a novel, or a TV show. At least nobody had any lightsabers around here.

Looking out of the window, she saw a group of people, traveling on foot, carrying large bags and pulling young children along. Their clothes, too, were different from what she was used to - but, she realized, growing familiar to her: the hand-woven robes, almost all of them covering the entire body down to the ankles, though some left the arms bare to work with. Some of them looked finer, more ceremonial, but most of them were dust-coated, showing the signs of mending. They halted in their journey as the Prince and his retinue passed, falling into bows and remaining in those positions until the procession had mostly passed by.


	4. Interlude - Gods and Spirits

The Stories of the Gods and Spirits,

as recorded by Viri the Savant, a Brief Summary.

* * *

 **The Beginning**

We humble ones gave our Gods their names, for they have never spoken their true names to anyone.

Adam Kadmon, or Adamkadmon - (however you choose to write His name) - know, o Man, that he is our Father. We are his flesh and his seed and his blood that walk upon this earth. He is the Primordial God, Father to All. Know then that we are all his children, in our various skins and genders and ages, for he names us all his.

Know His wife, Mamitu, Mother of the World. Hers is the breath that stirs us within these bodies to strive towards the heavens, and that scribes the paths we walk upon this world. For she is the Primordial Goddess, Mother of our Free Will and our Fate.

Know their three children, born from their union, filled with their power that this world should be born and flourish and live.

The first and First of their children is the one we call Gaia, the Mother of Nature and of the Gods that govern it. She raised the earth and blew on it, and there was sky and wind. She walked upon the earth, and in her shadow rose the trees and grass and animals, from which we draw our sustenance and life. .

Helel and Iblis were born in each other's clutches, their faces pressed so close to each other that they seemed to be one head with two bodies. Helel, the Sun, and Iblis, the Moon; from them flow the seasons and days, and the change of light and dark, heat and cold, old and new, across the lands, through cycles unending and unchanging.

And listen well, for I shall tell you about them all. About their deeds, about their children, about the deeds of their children and the deeds of their children's children.

 **We are feeble…**

Inasmuch as our shape is as the shape of our gods, yet they are of their own shape, and we were formed in the mould that had first birthed them. And when we were young, unknowing, without light or sight, unable to tell our hands from our feet and our mothers from our fathers, we lived in the dark of ignorance. But came the first of the gods to us from on high, incandescent and burning, and we feared to look at him lest our eyes were blinded. But he spoke to us, and made us bear the light of knowledge with his golden voice:

"Do not fear, sons of the dust; I am HLL, sun-bringing, light-holding. Look upon me, and know the course of suns."

They looked upon him, and were amazed; but because they were not worthy, his name was burned from their minds, and they gave him the name Helel, which means Light-Bringing..

And the sun rose in the sky, and the people fell down in worship, and worshipped all that day; And the sun began to set, and the people cried out in fear to Helel, saying: "O Helel, son of Adamkadmon! Do not depart from us, lest we die!" Yet they feared to look at him, for he burned brighter than fire.

"Why do you fear to let me go, sons of the dust?" Helel asked them.

They answered him, saying: "We are of the dust, as you say, and our lives are as brief as breath. What shall become of us, O bright Sun, if you leave?"

But their entreaties received no answer, and Helel turned his face from them to drive the sun beneath the seas. And it was dark, and there was wailing of the people at the going of the light.

But Adamkadmon was not without mercy. A light fell upon the world from beyond the clouds, and it was silver where Helel was gold, and there was not the burning heat of the day. The men and women ceased to wail, and cast their eyes on the sky where she flew. And her beauty marked the men who saw her, and in each man's heart he desired her and forsook his wife and mother; and in each woman's heart she knew she would never be silver and despaired of the love of men.

"Do not fear; unshepherded lambs; I am IBS, moon-driving, silver-in-the-dark; and I will mark the nights for you, for Adamkadmon has loved you."

And the people fell down and worshipped her, and loved her; but the men who had once looked upon her would never get up again to eat or work or sleep, and died; thus they called her Iblis, which means Silver-Beauty, and they raised a monument there, which they called Ber-Timbul; for they said: "In this place the gods rose before us." And Iblis took pity on the people, and took a covenant at Ber-Timbul: never again would she reveal her true beauty to the sons of the dust, lest they sicken and die.

And the days were marked by Helel and the nights by Iblis, and the people walked on the earth and took freely of the fruits of the trees, the seeds of the fields, and the meat of the animals, and they marveled, saying:

"Who is it that planted, and does not reap; or seeds, and does not collect? For we live by the bounty of the harvest, from fields we did not plow and orchards we did not water."

She came from the trees and the fields and the rich valleys, in response to their prayer and thanksgiving; and she looked upon them, and loved them. Though they feared to look upon her lest she were as bright as Helel or as beautiful as Iblis, yet she courted their attention by her presence. And it came to pass that they saw her face, and named her Gaia, All-Mother, and those who had seen her were made kind.

And she said nothing, and went away after a time had passed, and they called it Subur, the Festival of the Harvest, in her honour.

They are those we call Primordial - Those that existed before humanity set a foot upon this world…

 **And we are Feeble.**

 **For we assumed that our Gods could not feel as we did.**

And we did not know the origins of the Gods (for we were unenlightened by knowledge, and in those days no man sought to speak with them, for fear); and the Gods came and went before men without bar or hold, and no man said to the Gods, "Who is your father?" or, "Who is your mother?"

For after they had brought forth Gaia, and Helel, and Iblis, Adamkadmon and Mamitu brought forth no more Gods to rule the world, but raised up for their children helpers and servants - those we call now the Primordial, and the manifold spirits that inhabit the world beside us.

Tiamat was born of a lock of hair of Adamkadmon, and He set her over the animals of the world; and Tiamat governed the animals in their ways and all their forms, whether they crept upon the land or flew in the sky or swam in the waters. And presently Tiamat revealed herself to men, and they called her Tiamat of the Two Hands, who gentles the sheep and cows for milk and meat, or who rouses the dread monsters that rip the lives from men. And Gaia raised for herself the Wind-Walkers, Aether and Shu, to guide the great winds that scour the worlds and bring us rain or snow or sleet or hail in their seasons. But their love caused them to cling together, and the winds ceased to blow, and the rains and snows did not come in their proper time. And Helel and Iblis spoke to them, saying:

"Daughters of Gaia, behold what you wreak upon your Mother's realm. For the cloudless skies cannot shield the trees from My light."

And:

"Wind-Spirits, though we grieve at separation, yet it but inflames our heart to each other; and duty is sweet."

And Aether and Shu were abashed at these words, and the winds flowed like water, running in their many paths for their hundred thousand meetings; and when men are caught in a strong crosswinds, then they say: "It is Aether and Shu."

And despite Their power, Adam and Mamitu did not only give birth to Primordials. Thus Nabu was born, who Knows and is Known - who visits the minds of men, and sows in them the seeds of impossibilities.

Yet the elements were not finished. The World was not yet Perfect.

There was battle pitched between Helel and Gaia, and the world trembled and the sky darkened. From the wounds of Gaia came Besi, and from the blood of Helel, Shaitan; and Besi and Shaitan loved each other as their own from the moments of their birth. And so the ash-fields are known as Di-Bakar, the Burned Lands, sacred to Besi and to Shaitan, where Helel and Gaia made their peace. And to Besi was given all things of the deeps of the earth, and to Shaitan the fires of the heavens.

The last of the Primordials, Noa and Raphael, were raised upon the coasts, guardians of the boundaries between the land and the waves. And they extended their reach, and at their bidding the waters fled and the earth raised where there was none before; thus they are called the Brothers of the Islands.

And when Adamkadmon and Mamitu saw the world and knew it, and they called it good; and they brought us forth, men and women to inhabit their world and to know them and worship them.

 **But we were feeble…**

 **for Strife exists everywhere.**

And Helel knew Iblis, and she was with child. And within Iblis was great pain, and she cried out. And Adamkadmon and Mamitu came to Iblis, and said: "Be strong and take heart, for two gods are within you; and they will be equal and not equal, and will gladden your eyes."

And the children were born, and from the time of their birth they spoke and walked, and they are the Self-Named Gods, whose names were not given them by men. The elder was Chronos, Time-Spinner, and he was pale and serious, and in his hands he built the history and future of man. The younger was Morpheus, Dream-Well, joyful and laughing, and he crushed as easily as he built.

And the sons of men asked Morpheus to attend them in their dreams, and in their waking hours prayed to Chronos, and there was harmony between the two. But it came to pass that Morpheus saw the waking world, and laughed to think of his joke, and put his dreams into the realm of Chronos; and in anger Chronos caused that the days ceased not, and there was unrest in the world. And in the battle He Who Sleeps Unwoken came to be, and the battle that followed was sealed outside of Time and Dream forever that it may not ever recur.

And Mamitu was sick and weary when the battle was done, and from her sweat and tears came Strife, and she walked upon the world and saw the men and women weeping for the War That Never Was, and she saw that they did not know why they wept.

And they looked upon her, and fell down on their faces, for they saw that she was a goddess. And they said unto her: "Have mercy on us, for we are ruined and in fear lest we be struck from the earth."

And she smiled with a false smile, and she offered them a false comfort, saying:

"I am Fortune, sent for the gladness of hearts and the comfort of spirits, for I have seen the weight on your souls. Be glad therefore, for near here there are rich fields to eat from and sweet springs to drink, and I shall lead you to them."

And she went to the other village, and saying the same, brought them out of their walls; and thus she brought war between the villages. .

But Mamitu saw the actions of Strife on the earth, and her face was darkened upon it, and she stretched out her hand and raised an impassable mountain between the villages, which to this day is Di-Balik, for they turned back from the mountains; and there was fire and thunder upon the earth. And Strife was raised up with the mountain before the face of Mamitu, and she raised her hand against her mother. Mamitu placed Strife within chains a thousand thousand depths within the earth, and sealed her away within many rooms, saying: "Never again will you lead astray the sons of dust, o daughter."

And Strife lies there still, shaking the world in her struggles, and her screams echo out through the depths of the world to stir men to violence and war and blood. Her true name was lost in time.

 **And there is Union!**

In what Gods call Battle. In what Gods call Love. In what Gods call Friendship. In what Gods call Kinship.

For the world strives to Those who made it in all its aspects, and by their nature they make. In the meetings of the Gods there is great power, and in the meeting of power there is Union, where the power of the Gods raises up more godlings and spirits unto themselves.

The first of the Unions called forth Tiamat Two-Handed; the last of the Unions formed Strife; and since then the Gods have hidden themselves, lest their power devolve upon some unworthy soul. Yet the Primordials and lesser Gods, too, have their lesser Unions, as men have theirs; and thus the spirits are formed that swarm the world in their countless numbers.

 _[These next lines are written in a different hand from Viri's own, and appear to be rough transcriptions of a speech. Authorship unknown.]_

And in service to Nabu I write and dedicate this book, and his authority shall be my mantle; call me no more Viri the Savant, for I am Seshat of the Books, the recorder of the world and the civilisations thereof, the Gods' scribe. Care you for this, for this is the last book I shall ever write for the eyes of men.

I have tasted the Nectar of Gods.


	5. Fireflies in the Capital

Spirit of Nature 4 - "She commanded the fireflies to dance, and the orphans laughed. She commanded it also, and orphanages were built for the children to live in." - Iman, scholar of the true faith, in her autobiography 'Where Our Hearts Lead Us'.

* * *

Taylor looked out through the narrow gap between the curtain and the window of her carriage as they trundled over the brick roads into Elamia. She had thought it would be confusing to have the capital named the same as the entire kingdom, but nobody else seemed to think so, and had simply chalked it up to "spirit nature". There were a lot of "spirit nature" things about Taylor, with a new one discovered for every day they'd spent on the road. The people were cheering raucously as they passed through, shouting victory chants; the contingent, after all, had obviously not taken a single loss from the expedition to Friede. Some of them pointed out Taylor's carriage with surprise or suspicion, but she wasn't worrying about that.

Instead, her bugs were already sweeping through the crowds and capital, building up a mental map for her of the people and buildings around it. Elamia (the capital, not the country) was even larger than Friede, and had occupied almost all of the horizon for a day or so of travel. She was looking forward to getting onto the ground and stretching her legs. Riding in a carriage for a week had not been an entirely comfortable experience, even if they had had daily breaks to water or feed the horses and rest.

The carriage took another turn, following Prince Aaron's carriage in separating from the main body of the army, and Taylor's jaw dropped open in awe. The road was wide enough for six or seven of the carriages, lined on either side by soldiers in gleaming burnished armour with weapons raised, and set amidst a gorgeous, painstakingly manicured lawn. Small animals grazed or romped through the lawn, with groundskeepers milling about, and above it all stood the castle. Easily as big as an office building but infinitely more beautiful, it was built of polished stone, reliefs carved into it depicting various scenes, and dotted with statuary. Atop it was a golden, onion-like dome, polished until it reflected the sunlight perfectly.

They stopped just inside the gate, and the prince of Elamia climbed out of his carriage to stand on its roof, making it an impromptu stage from which to address the crowd crushing against the gates of the royal compound.

"People of Elamia!" the prince shouted, his tone slightly nervous. "It was not me that freed Friede from the idolaters, but a spirit that descended!"

There was shocked silence, and then a babel of sound. People shouting to see it - her- or praying, muttering.

"She approached us and the sky was darkened, threatening us if we spilled blood on her sacred earth," he continued. "Goddess Skitter is a spirit of nature…"

As he went on, the cheers began building, drowning out any muttering to the contrary. Her bugs told her that the crowd of people was swelling, pulling people out of the surrounding streets to come to listen to the Prince's speech. She'd made a few speeches in her day, but nothing like this. She carefully thinned out the bugs she had amongst the citizens, just in case they made too noticeable a swarm - Prince Aaron had talked with her about it, on the way up. The need for a suitably dramatic reveal.

She took her attention off of him; Prince Aaron was in his element, and he didn't seem very much on the way to his grand announcement of her presence. Instead, she looked around the carriage and at the two girls with her. Amal was still not happy with Iman, glaring at the dark-skinned girl, but she hadn't started any fights. Iman, for her part, was doing her best to be Taylor's new enthusiastic puppy, which meant following her everywhere and asking her to keep telling her about the things she had done before going to Friede.

"Time to face the music then," Taylor said to herself, as Prince Aaron's voice died down and there was an expectant hush; to Amal and Iman, she said: "Come on, now." She called the insects out of the town, enveloping the carriage as she opened the door and stepped out into the midst of her swarm, the two girls behind her following immediately. The people of Elamia cheered - at least, the ones who didn't immediately gasp in fear and draw back - and Taylor smiled under her mask. Though she had gotten into the habit of staying unmasked with Amal and Iman, she had chosen to wear it for her first entrance to Elamia, where it was helping to hide her nervousness.

Aaron climbed down from his carriage roof after the people had had a decent amount of time to cheer, and proceeded to lead them towards the castle. It was both for image and for comfort - the people enjoyed seeing their royalty, and the roads were constructed in a way that would shake carriage-wheels badly. Behind them, the drivers took the carriages away, and the noise of the crowd's cheering slowly diminished. Ahead of them, the castle loomed, and as they approached it the guards standing on either side of the massive doors sprang to action and pushed the doors open.

They walked up the stairs, Amal and Iman all but clinging to Taylor's coat as they passed through the doors, past the saluting guards. For his part, Prince Aaron stepped smartly along the richly carpeted stone floors without pausing, or slowing down, leaving them to catch hurried glimpses of the castle's interior as they hurried along. They took a turn down a corridor, past rows of large paintings of stern people in regalia, and found themselves climbing up a flight of stairs. On the landing, positioned so that they would come face-to-face with it as they ascended, was the largest painting they'd seen yet. Stretching from the floor to somewhere a story or two up, it was the full-length image of a man in armour, a sword in his hand. The armour was scuffed and scratched, but polished with care; the cape he wore was short and had signs of having been mended. The man himself was black-haired but fair, and his scarred face was grim, staring down upon the viewer as if considering whether to use his sword on them. Taylor lingered there for a second, appreciating the man's physique.

"The painting of Eshmun," Amal whispered, mistaking Taylor's interest for… well, interest. "The first king of Elamia. It's the only painting made with him standing as a model, instead of descriptions."

Taylor admitted that he looked handsome, in a rough sort of way - Aaron, who still had her ire, didn't even look half as good as Eshmun's painting did.

His red eyes were a trait she had never seen outside of a parahuman, however.

"Let us proceed," Aaron said, a knight on his side. He led them towards a large room, two thrones at the end, with the coat of arms of the kingdom stitched on a giant cloth behind the seats.

A old man sat on one of the thrones, while the other was empty. The man looked as if he would break at the slightest touch, and it was difficult to believe he had a son who looked barely two years older than she did.

"Good day, grandfather."

Ah, so that's how.

"Welcome home, Aaron," the king said. "I was told… you brought a wonderful surprise to our capital."

"Yes," he said, glancing at Taylor with the first sign of nervousness he had shown since they entered Elamia. Taking the obvious hint, she stepped forward and nodded at the king; behind and around her, her cloud of insects fell to the ground in a long train, stretching from her feet to the door and almost to the stairs. "This is Skitter, spirit of nature. When I came to the idolaters of Friede, she had already come amongst them, and through her mercy, they were brought back to the truth, without bloodshed..."

The old man stared at Taylor for a long moment, then, gripping the arms of his throne, pushed himself up to a standing position. He took a step forward and began to sink to his knees. "O spirit, welcome to this kingdom and to this -"

"Get up!" Taylor interrupted before the old king could fall to the ground. "It's okay. I just need a favour from you."

King Amram's eyes widened and he went silent, and Prince Aaron rushed forwards to help the old king back onto his throne. "Anything, anything for the emissary of the gods," he croaked. "Speak and your humble servant shall see it done. On my throne and my kingship I swear it, be the consequences ever so severe." .

Well, this was it, then. "I was separated from my comrades," Taylor said.

Amran's grip on his throne tightened, and his throat worked as the old king tried to make an answer. "We - we welcome the spirits and the gods, and are their humble servants," he eventually said. "Wherever they may be or hail from..."

Taylor only nodded in reply. It would make things go more smoothly. "I am looking for them, and wanted to ask if the capital had men to spare, to search in the other villages and cities."

"In-indeed," said King Amran, pulling himself straight in his throne. "We will make the necessary arrangements - prepare the feasts - the spirits will once more rule the nation with justice and wisdom -"

"What? No!" Taylor interrupted. "I'm not here for the throne. I just want to find my comrades."

King Amran relaxed visibly. "All will be done in accordance to your will, o spirit." Turning to Prince Aaron, the old man's face became sterner. "Have the scouts sent out, my son, and let all Elamia know that the great spirit Skitter seeks her comrades." He paused, then, and turned his gaze back to Skitter. "There has not been one spirit seen on the earth in centuries, and now there are so many." He blinked, and Taylor realised his eyes were watering. "It is a joy to the heart of this old man…"

"Don't worry about it," she told him. "Thank you for your help - both of you. There's one more thing I need."

"Speak and it will be done," said King Amran. After a pause, Prince Aaron repeated the same sentence.

"My friend was injured in Friede," said Skitter, gesturing to Amal; though she had been fairly well treated and it had been a week or more since the stabbing attempt, Amal's arm had not fully recovered. "The healers of Friede have tried to help her, but you may have more skilful doctors."

King Amran turned his pale-eyed gaze on Prince Aaron, and the Prince stepped down from the dais on which the throne sat. "Fear not, grandfather," said the Prince, turning to face King Amran beside Skitter. "I will see to it that the spirit and her companions are treated full well. Pray excuse us now; we are only just returned from travel, and are foul and hungry."

King Amran raised a hand, smiling, and the audience was concluded. "I shall see you again, o spirit," he said. "If you have favour upon me and my house."

"Don't worry," said Taylor, nodding at him. "I'll come to see you again." She turned around then, following Prince Aaron out; Amal and Iman, for their parts, walked backwards out of the throne room, only turning around once they were out of it and the doors had been shut behind them.

Elamia was the darkest capital that Taylor had ever been in. Night had fallen, and the only lights about were the torches that stood on poles in the streets or were carried about by the guards, as well as some scant light that leaked through windows and the cracks of doorways. Not that Taylor needed lights by which to navigate, of course. She walked the streets of Elamia alone - Amal and Iman had been left in the castle with Prince Aaron's healers after dinner - and hummed softly to herself as her insects roamed and fed. Even with the torchlight around her, she could see the stars. Amal had taught her to identify a few of the constellations - Iblis' Belt, the Arms of Besi, the Great and Little Eagles -

There was a pattering of small feet as somebody ran out from inside an alley towards her. She didn't turn around immediately to face the small child, but stopped walking and humming to let him catch up to her. "Spirit!" shouted the boy.

She turned, then, and looked down at the child. He was maybe the same age as Hamilcar of Heth, but unlike Hamilcar, he was bloodied and dirtied, with streaks of mud on his face. His clothes had been torn and mended, and he was standing defiantly, hands balled into fists.

"Why?" he asked her.

Taylor stood impassively, watching him. She sensed adults and other children approaching them, and raised up her bugs to stop them in their tracks.

"Why did you take my sister?! And my parents?!" he shouted, trying to punch her. She simply moved out of the way, making the boy stumble. "She was eight! Why do you spirits always take our family!"

Taylor sighed, grimacing before kneeling down, not dodging the next punch. It landed on her shoulder pad, and hurt the boy's hand much worse than it did her. He withdrew, trying bravely not to look hurt.

"I didn't take your sister," Taylor said. "I'm sorry for your loss, but we don't decide when someone dies…"

"And yet you live in that palace," he said. "With the king and that stupid prince. The only one who even attempts to help us is prince Moses, but he has been gone for so long…"

"You are an orphan?" she asked. The boy made a noise that was somewhere between a sniffle and a grunt. "Don't you have orphanages?"

"Orphanages? What orphanages?" he snapped. "The orphans who can work do so, those who can't just stay in the streets. My sister was sick, and you didn't help, and she died!"

For such a young child, he had a strong voice, despite the high-pitched anger making it almost seem like a tantrum. He was genuinely angry.

"Take me to them," Taylor said. "To the orphans."

"So you can take them too? FUCK YO-"

Taylor put her hand over his mouth, and he kept shouting muffled words into her palm.

"Stop shouting;" she said. She didn't even think the eight year olds on her world used that word at all, and definitely not front of an adult. "I will help you, all of you."

He shouted and tried to punch her again, but she stopped his weak attack with her own hand and picked him up. He stopped shouting, then, and she began walking on, letting her bugs start searching through the streets for any other small children. As she did, she thought about the talk she would have to have with King Amran in the morning, and scattered the bugs that she had used to enclose herself and the boy, leaving just enough behind to tell her if anybody else approached. She soon regretted it; he was very active and vocal in his attempts to wriggle free, and she wished she had added earplugs to her costume. It wasn't like in Brockton Bay - there were obviously enough funds and materials for the other buildings.

There was a whole row of houses in disrepair, some distance away. They looked as if they'd been hit by a storm and never repaired, and no torches lit the night there. One of them was just crawling with little children, so she went to it; as she did, his struggles intensified.

"Stop!" the boy shouted. "Leave them alone!"

There was movement within the house, and Taylor moved her bugs in the building around; there were a number of people in it, a few of them possibly adult. One of them approached the entrance and came out, approaching Taylor and the boy. He stopped a distance from them.

"I'm sorry about that," he said awkwardly, apologetically. "Please don't - thanks for bringing -" Unable to properly express himself to Taylor, he settled for addressing the boy she was carrying. "Ven! I told you not to go running off!""

Taylor set the young boy - Ven - down and let him go, but he just turned around and stood firmly on the ground, chin stuck out defiantly at her. His fists were clenched.

"I don't care what you say, Umbra!" Ven shouted, his body turning to the other boy and gesturing wildly. "She took my sister! She is here to take you too! Get everybody! Run away before she gets you too!"

"We have been over this already, Ven," Umbra said sadly. "She was sick. We couldn't have done anything."

"She was not!" Ven said. "She was smiling a day before it happened! Laughing at my jokes, playing with Fabi!"

Taylor stood, watching them. I lost my mother, too, and I can't go home to my father anymore, she thought, watching Umbra and Ven, but she couldn't say it right then. They'd lost their parents too, both of them..

Someone approached, brushing past her insects without concern. Iman, from the size and gait - but that wasn't important right now.

Umbra moved up and grabbed Ven's shoulder, but the younger boy just turned around and hit him hard enough to knock the older boy to the ground despite their difference in size.

"Is this how you treat your friend?" Taylor asked him. "Is this how you want to honor your sister?"

She gathered all the fireflies that she could find and brought them towards them, forcing the insects to dim their lights as they gathered. When she judged that she had brought enough of them into the streets, she stopped suppressing them.

As if she had hit a switch, the darkness of the street was lit up in thousands of blinking stars. The two children in front of her - one of them possibly her age, or older - stopped moving, open-mouthed at the sight, watching the fireflies swirl through the air like molten gold.

There was freshly turned earth near the house,Taylor noticed.

"I cannot give you your sister," Taylor told him. "I'm sorry; I don't have that kind of power. But I will talk to the king. Children shouldn't have to work to survive - they should have a good childhood."

The fireflies continued streaming into the street where she stood, and people followed to see the sights; Skitter turned and saw them, and was reminded of that first speech she had given so long ago, after she had first received her territory. Her first speech to a crowd.

The swarm spoke, so that every person standing in the streets and many people in their houses for a good distance around heard clearly. "Citizens, build the orphans a house. Keep them safe, fed, clean, and warm." In a way, it wasn't so much different from Brockton Bay. This power could be used to help people. Charlotte would be proud.

"I still hate you," Ven said, stubbornly sullen.

"I don't expect you to like me."

"We had had intentions for these," the king admitted when Taylor asked him about orphanages the next morning after breakfast. "My grandson, Moses, left for Qurt some time back, to find women to take care of the children."

Taylor nodded, feeling a little foolish - she hadn't quite needed to barge in on King Amran, after all.

"But Moses has not yet returned, and Qurt has not sent any messages," Amram said. "And with no women to care for the children…"

"I understand," said Taylor, but wondered why there were no willing women in the capital. "Perhaps if I spoke to the people here," she began, and was interrupted.

"I'll do it!" Iman said loudly, and then turned a bright shade of red and stared at the floor when everybody turned to look at her. "That is - if it please the goddess and the king," she said. "I would like to…" she trailed off.

"Are you sure?" Taylor asked. Iman nodded.

"It's the least I can do - looking for a home for me was also a task you took on for me," Iman said. "Please, let me do this."

"I won't stop you," Taylor said. "I'm happy that we can find them some help." She turned back to King Amran. "But there are too many children for her alone. You had said Prince Moses had been away long?"

"Prince Moses has a habit, that he always sends us a messenger if his journey should take more time than expected," King Amram said. "But he hasn't done so and I- I fear the worst."

Taylor nodded. "How far is Qurt from here?"

Amal's eyes widened, staring at Taylor as she realised what Taylor intended. "Qurt? Really?"

Taylor nodded, and Amal paled slightly.

"Promise me not to take off your mask, milady," Amal stated. "No one can see your face."

"Sure?" Taylor said. She hadn't planned to do so anyway, but Amal was happy about her agreement.

"I will prepare your carriage and supplies," Prince Aaron said. "You will be able to leave by tomorrow."

Taylor smiled at Iman, even if she couldn't see it. "Thank you, Iman. Be bold and kind in the setting up of the first orphanage of Elamia."

Iman bowed, nodding in agreement. "Goodbye, my goddess."


	6. Iron Skin

Spirit of Nature 5 - Iron Skin

* * *

Tattletale landed with a grunt, rolling to the side after falling through the endless void that seemed so much worse than Grue's power, a stream that pushed her down, rather than the pressure that made it hard to walk through. The silence was deafening.

For one moment it was like her power just gave up understanding anything, turning on and off in short bursts before stopping. Concerning - her power _never_ turned off. There was a cold feeling on her arm accompanied by a phantom grip; it pulsed in time with the vanishing of her power, until eventually something shifted and her power remained on.

She didn't expect something to pull on her arm as she tried to roll, forcing her back again. Opening her eyes slightly, she found Weld on the floor, staring at the sky, his hand grasping her arm.

Her gaze followed his, and millions of stars stared back like an explosion of light. The cold feeling on her arm wasn't the worst thing, though, as a wind blew around them and made her shiver. Her power immediately gave her information that she didn't need, and absolutely no answer to where the fuck she was.

 _A large field, far from civilization, or at least, not visible. It was dark. A moonless night._

"Weld," she said slowly. The grip tightened at the sound of her voice. After a second his eyes widened and he let go, staring at his hand.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Sorry," he said, picking himself off the floor and moving towards her before offering his hand. She shook her head, feeling cold enough already, and lifted herself off the ground, dusting dirt off her clothes. Weld looked around. Confused. Agitated. The metals that made up his body shifted slightly, the movement barely visible in the darkness. "Where are we?"

"No idea," she said, looking around. Empty fields were around them, green even in the dark. It was far too dark to make out details, though, and the moonlight just barely revealed a forest in the distance, if the shapes were actually trees. She continued at his glance. "Well, excuse me, princess Weld, but 'cold at night' isn't really that helpful in figuring out our location, even for my power."

Apparently that was the wrong answer. Weld got more agitated, a slight ripple visible over his skin before it vanished. _Frowning._ "What do you mean 'no idea'?"

"No idea," she repeated, shrugging and shaking her head. "My power doesn't tell me anything if I don't have enough details. The best I can tell you is that it's pretty fucking cold, and I'm freezing."

"This is your fault," he said, his eyes narrowed, glaring at her. She raised her hands in a placating gesture as he turned his body to fully face her. "You messed up with your stupid experiment. Fix this."

"I can't, okay?" she muttered, a cold feeling spreading in her gut. She didn't want to be stuck with him, but it would just be worse if he got angry. She had a knack for making people angry, but calming them down was another matter entirely. He didn't seem like someone who would get angry _quickly_ , but they didn't need that right now. "Labyrinth and Scrub aren't here, if you didn't notice, but I'm pretty sure that… something happened. I can't remember it."

"I can," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe it has something to do with my condition. The portal was ripped open by something, or someone. It attempted to grab Skitter, I think, and when she dodged out of the way, the portal widened."

Tattletale bit her lower lip, looking towards the distant forest. "Someone. You mean, it was a hand? Nothing else? Skin color maybe? Face peering from through the portal?"

"Yes. Maybe. I'm not sure about what it was." He shook his head. "When it got Skitter and pulled back, some others fell through, some managed to hold onto something. I grabbed you, you felt… warm when we landed in the portal. I could feel the temperature on my skin. What happened there?" he kept staring at his hand. She knew. It wasn't really a familiar feeling to him, it was _new_. The lack of memories made every new experience something special.

"Two things," she lifted two fingers, trying not to sound too nervous. The cold wind blew through the fields again, making her shiver and bend over a bit. She rubbed her hands together. "First, this was some long range Mover, and we are somewhere in… well, probably somewhere with less technology than we are used to. And no street lamps at all. I can barely see my hand, and can't get reception." She checked her phone. "Second, the portal disabled my power on the way here, so maybe it turned you to normal again and you reverted back when we were through."

"So this could… revert the changes?" he asked, looking less annoyed, placated... hopeful even? "Make us normal again?"

"Maybe?" Tattletale tried, he just shook his head.

"Don't get my hopes up and leave me hanging! I need a clear answer-"

Steps. Hoofs. Horses. She could hear someone approaching and turned her head. It wasn't very visible in the distance, but the sound was clear. They must have been trained to work in the dark, avoiding the use of any light-source. They came from the direction opposite of the forest. Weld heard it too and moved in front of her.

"I'm arresting you," he said. "So whatever happens, don't open your mouth."

"Force me, metal ma-" His hand slapped over her mouth immediately, becoming a binding that sealed her mouth shut, leaving her nose open to breathe. The steps became louder and Tattletale groaned angrily, standing behind him. It was _cold_.

It wasn't after too long that he could make out a group of men, five of them in armor and swords strapped to their hips, while two others who looked more like civilians followed after them. The armor of the men was different for each of them, but held a distinct pattern of some strange steel. It didn't look intimidating as much as it looked out of place even at a cape convention. The civilians had longer robes on, their frames definitively thinner and visibly weaker compared to the men with swords.

One of the men had a banner in his hands, and the strange image of a mouse with a shield was visible as a coat of arms. In his opinion, not a very intimidating symbol, but the confidence with which the men carried themselves was more than enough. Their apparent leader, the man riding at the front, had scars that were visible even from that distance, and the same coat of arms on the front of his chestplate.

When they were only ten meters away, they stopped their horses, dismounting and taking a few steps forward. The man in the front had his hand on the sword.

"I come in the name of the Emperor, and ask you this: Who are you, Fallen Star?"

 _Fallen star,_ Weld thought. They did fall from above, but did they actually fall from the sky? It shouldn't be possible for Tattletale to survive something like this.

"I'm Weld," he said. One of the men grabbed something from a bag slung around the horse. A torch. Within a few seconds the fire was ignited and illuminated the surroundings a bit better, the horses remained standing behind them and the men themselves took a step back when they saw Weld's form.

"I thought my eyes deceived me," the man with the torch said. "A spirit? Here? Where your kind is not prayed to?"

"Where is _here_?" Weld asked. Tattletale tapped him on the shoulder, but he ignored her. She seemed to be more agitated. He didn't react to the spirit comment, maybe it was just how the people around here called the Cases. But their English, though accented, seemed rather modern.

"On the mainland of the Empire," the man in the front said. "I am part of the Emperor's Guard, sent to investigate the fallen star that was visible from the city not far from here."

It was a quick reaction, Weld realized. They were barely here half an hour, though he couldn't see a city nearby, none of the bright lights he was so familiar with. It might have something to do with the fact that they were riding horses and using _swords_.

"What… Empire?"

Tattletale tried to shake him by his shoulder, waving her hands in front of his face. To his credit, he kept a straight face.

"He has never heard of Muridae?" one of the men asked the leader.

"It is not unheard of, the spirits have not been sighted in over four-hundred years. The Empire wasn't the Empire, at the time…"

Tattletale was violently slamming her fist on Weld's back while he patiently waited for the men to finish. They were authority and seemed pleasant enough. A bit of whispering later, the man at the front stepped up. It made sense, Tattletale realized. Men in armor? Sure, that's normal. But this? Her power explained what exactly was wrong with the entire picture, and Weld didn't even listen.

"Let us greet you, spirit Weld, know that you will find no temples of your sisters here, but our respect is honest," the leader said.

"Sisters?" he asked. Other Cases, maybe?

"Besi's daughters, of course, as they called themselves," one of the men next to the leader said. At Weld's clueless look, he continued: "Ifrit? Jeanne? Aeo-"

"Should we escort you and your… companion to the city?" the leader interrupted, ignoring his subordinate's confused rambling.

Weld glanced to Tattletale, her eyes were wide and she was still hitting his back. The bindings around her mouth vanished and she took a deep breath before shouting at his face.

"WE AREN'T ON EARTH BET ANYMORE!"

"What."

It wasn't a question. It was a realization. Muridae wasn't something he ever heard about, though it might have been because of his spotty memory. But if Tattletale said it was like this, it was improbable that she was lying, especially in her situation.

"Those men are serious, they think you are some kind of deity," she pointed at them, making them take a step back. "And there was no empire on our earth! Shit, we're done! Where the fu-"

The bindings came around her mouth again.

"She talks too much," Weld said. "Bring us to the city, we can talk on the way."

"Of course," the men nodded, moving towards their horses again. Weld followed, the binding pulling Tattletale along. After the bannerman extinguished the flame on the torch, they moved slowly towards west, and Weld clenched his fist, trying not to let his anger show. This was much worse than he expected, but there was a small spot of hope. Whatever happened in the portal, he was human for just one moment.

"I am Ivan," the leader introduced himself at last, still staring forward as the two capes followed him. "The Emperor will want to meet you, spirit Weld."

"I'm looking for some people," he said. "Other… spirits, maybe. People with strange powers."

"The spirits have long since vanished, you are the first in centuries!" the bannerman said.

"What are spirits, then?"

"The islands around worship them," Ivan said. "Children of gods, as they call them. The Empire doesn't disapprove of religion. However, some overzealous people might try to force their belief on others, which can lead to minor uprisings. We know that spirits are real, extraordinary people with powers unlike anything seen on earth, but we refuse to believe in their divinity."

"So they can also look human?"

"All do," Ivan laughed, before stopping himself. "Well, except for you. A body of iron, I know a lot of soldiers who would give an arm and a leg for that kind of strength."

Weld's face scrunched slightly, annoyed, disgusted, Tattletale realized. It was still way too cold, and he was forcing her to keep a pace she couldn't really keep up much longer. She noticed something about the men, but he wouldn't let her finish speaking.

Gods. Spirits. They actually believed what they said about the people with powers, despite claiming that they didn't believe in their divinity. So does that mean other capes were here? Four-hundred years ago? Impossible. Capes barely existed for a bit over 30 years on Bet. Did they exist even earlier here? Improbable. Aleph had capes too, though not that many, and they all appeared around the same time as on her world.

The rest of the walk was rather uneventful, until she really couldn't walk anymore. They could see the city they mentioned in the distance, huge flags with the coat of arms with that strange mouse visible at the _gates_. There were actual gates! Medieval kind of gates, guys in armor, where the fuck did they even land? She sat down and refused to move until Weld lifted her up and carried her. She thought he'd maybe remove the bindings slightly so she could warn him, but he didn't.

The men approached the gate slowly and called out.

"Men! Open the gates!" Ivan shouted. "And send a messenger to the capital! The spirits have returned, a man of metal was the fallen star!"

There were shouts from the inside, and the gate opened. They were wooden, but definitively thick and sturdy, now that she could see them opening. A few minutes later they could step in, slowly moving forward while the soldiers stationed inside stared at them. They were all armored, and well armed. Archers on the gates were keeping an eye on them, and Tattletale realized just a little too late what was going on.

She began hitting Weld again, and he dropped her unceremoniously. She showed him the finger before pointing towards her mouth, still shivering at the cold that didn't seem to end. The least they could have done was offering her a blanket or something.

"A trap!" she shouted, her voice hoarse. She must have caught a cold, dammit, and the entire thing could have been avoided! The moment she shouted, the archers aimed and the five men from before pulled out their swords, all directed towards them. Weld transformed his arms into blades. The metal would be bad for him, it could slow him down…

Tattletale coughed, grabbing her throat and mouth, trying to get the metallic taste out of it. Trying to pull herself off the floor didn't work, not with how her body was rebelling.. She was exhausted, freezing, and Weld was having a standoff.

"Not," she coughed. "Real. Mercenaries."

"Your companion is smart," Ivan said, his sword pointed at her. "I didn't expect two uneducated fools, spirits or not, to see through this ruse, but it was a bit quicker than I expected."

"Mercenaries?" Weld asked her. She nodded, her throat feeling slightly better.

"They worked as sellswords," she muttered. "The empire doesn't pay them enough, so they took over the city and pretend to be goody two-shoes soldiers."

"A bit too smart," Ivan sneered, stepping forward. "Another spirit, perhaps? I would love to sell you both, but it seems we can't let you live, little girl."

"You're going to need me," Tattletale told Weld. "If you ever-"

"Shut up," he hissed. "I know."

The gates behind them were still open. He transformed one of the arms back before slinging it around Tattletale and running away, making a shield to stop the arrows that hailed from above. The men behind him weren't much faster than him, and the gate would take some time to close. As he rushed through the gates, he could only see the continuing darkness of the night that was barely illuminated by the torches on the gates. But there wasn't any other option, and he ran towards the place they landed. A forest was nearby…

Weld wasn't the fastest, but he had no need for sleep, no tiredness could slow him down. So he ran, and the men followed after him. He transformed the shield back into a blade when the horses came, much quicker than him, and used them to cut into their legs when they got too close, sending the riders and their mounts into the dirt.

Tattletale groaned whenever he hit the ground too hard with his feet, sending pain through her body due to the shaking around. But this time she understood the necessity. From the way they sounded, these guys feared the Empire enough that they'd kill her rather than earn a large profit by selling her. The horses became less frequent, and after around forty-five minutes of running, they ended up at the edge of the forest, far enough from their pursuers.

He finally stopped, Tattletale sighed with relief as he put her down next to a tree, the bruises on her skin not as bad as what would have happened inside the city. Weld looked angry. At himself. At her. Too trustworthy. Too idealistic. Her throat itched, and she gave a slight cough.. It was too cold, her costume wasn't made for this kind of weather, and constant skin contact with him didn't help. Her body shivered and she sneezed involuntarily.

"Look," she said, her teeth gnashing. "I get that you fell for that, and we both know I could have warned you a bit earlier. You should trust me more. I'm a lot smarter than you... "

"Get to the point," he interrupted.

"...but we got another problem. Either I get some warmth, or I will die of hypothermia before I can be useful enough to get us out of this shitty situation."

He nodded, looking at one of the trees nearby. "I can get wood, if you know how to make a fire."

"I can try, shouldn't be too hard." She nodded, standing up and leaning against the tree. The ground was even colder. His arms narrowed and lengthened, turning into long, sharp blades. He moved them up, cutting with the blades to remove the branches from the trees, gathering twigs. It took a few minutes before Tattletale realized that the trees were pretty much the same as home. A few insects she saw were unfamiliar to her, but nothing too strange. It's not like she knew everything, despite how she behaved most of the time. But… another world.

It was exciting and terrifying at the same time, and if Weld's memory was correct, they weren't the only people who crashed here. After stacking the wood and gathering the materials she knew they'd need, she sat down and started an attempt to make fire, deeper in the forest to avoid being seen by the guys in case they came close.

She tried to ignite some dry leaves on a large stone like she saw on TV a lot of times, trying to spin a piece of wood quickly over it. It was a lot harder than she thought. Weld continued shaving up some wood with a knife he made from his hand, adding more. They were both unfamiliar with most of the process, but they tried their best.

"Can't you use your hand as a drill or something?" she asked, frustrated. "Heat this up like that?"

"..." Weld didn't make a noise and stared at his hand. It formed into a drill, but it was unmoving. "No."

"I am going to die here," she moaned, drawing her knees up to her face. She sneezed. "I'm going to die! You're to blame! I thought you were supposed to be a hero... and, wait!"

She took the stone from before and gave it to him, before pointing at his skin.

"Hit yourself!" she said, grinning widely.

"What?"

"Hit yourself, make sparks! You know, to make the fire, please?"

Weld sighed, putting his hand near the dry leaves that he gathered and smashed the stone down on it, sparks flew up. He hit it again, another few sparks. A third and a fourth time and the sparks finally landed on the dry leaves. It didn't work. A small glow appeared, and smoke rose, but it wasn't enough to actually be ignited.

They repeated it multiple times, adding wooden shavings and some dried grass that they could find. Weld didn't seem to mind the hits, and sparks flew again and again over the next few minutes until they finally managed to ignite it.

"Fuck yeah! Survival of the fittest!"

Weld actually made a noise that could have been a laughter, and looked away when she glared at him. She began blowing air at the small flame. It would be a long night.

When Tattletale woke up, the fire was still burning, new wood atop the burned one. Weld must have been gathering some the whole night and she felt a lot warmer. The sun too, was wonderfully warm on her skin, though her nose was clogged and she felt very thirsty.

"I found a river nearby," Weld said, making her jump slightly. He approached from behind, putting down a large leaf with some water. "I'm not sure if it is fresh water, but I figured your power would tell you."

She nodded, looking at it. Green light, and without hesitation she lifted the leaf up, taking a sip. Drinking felt hard and painful, but the soothing feeling of the water going down her throat came soon enough, making it worth it. A few seconds later, her stomach made itself known.

"I need some food," she muttered.

"Spoiled brat," he said, making her grin. A bit of humour couldn't hurt.

Lifting herself off the floor, she stretched and sighed loudly, her back cracking slightly and small bursts of pain reminding her of the hardness of the floor. This was too uncomfortable to sleep on. The forest looked a lot nicer in the day though, the leaves swaying slightly in the soft breeze and the sound of birds was almost enough to make her forget that she was dirty all over.

"I also spotted a village near the river," he said. "Maybe we can get you some clothes there, and some food."

"Thanks," she said, a hand on her belly. "Reminds me of why I hate camping."

"Let's get going then," he said, stomping at the fire to turn it off. "The man mentioned something about temples, right? I saw something like that in the village, or maybe a shrine. Had the statue of a girl with flaming hair on it."

"That could help," she said, walking behind him, hoping she could drink some more water from the river as soon as possible. "He mentioned shrines and temples, didn't he? Maybe we can use that to our advantage."

"You mean lie to people and take their stuff?"

"It would be more like a donation." She shrugged. "Either that, or we'll have to camp near enough wood every day, with me getting sicker by the day. I got a cold already, don't want to make it worse."

"Fine." He sighed. The floor was filled with wood and leaves, though the soft soil visible beneath it made it hard for her to walk. Weld also looked as if he had problems at first, until he shifted his legs into something that made the walk easier for him. The river was wide, very wide. She couldn't see a bridge nearby, but she didn't care. She rushed towards it and stuck her head in, washing her face and taking a large gulp of the wonderful liquid.

Water tasted like the sweetest wine when you were dying of thirst.

The village was visible, a large field behind it, apparently farmers. She could see a few people with something that looked like old fishing poles and nets standing in the river not far away, avoiding deep water. It wasn't a strong stream, but she didn't really want to ask Weld how well he could swim.

"Come on," he said, pulling her away from the water. "We need to find a way over there."

"You could throw me? No, stupid suggestion, sorry. I'm really hungry," she muttered. "Shall we ask the fishermen?"

"That might work."

They walked towards the fishermen, less than a hundred meter down the stream, before the men noticed them. One of them went to his knees, while another ran towards the village. The third one remained standing.

"A spirit!" the man on his knees said. "A spirit has descended! O, Adamkadmon, o Mamitu, you honor us…"

"Hey!" Tattletale shouted. "We need a way over there, is there a bridge?"

"Oh, yes, of course, down the stream, away from the village, you can't miss it," the standing man said. He looked younger than the kneeling one. The kneeling man immediately turned to the standing one and swiped at his legs. He fell into the water.

"Bow down!" the kneeling man shouted.

Gasping for air, the other man came out of the water on knees."Are you trying to kill me?"

"Crazy people," Tattletale said. "Lovely. After you."

Weld just walked further down the river, ignoring her antics. The temple was made in honor of the spirits, whatever they were. The man wasn't lying when he said that the religion wasn't disapproved off, but it didn't seem very widespread around here.

They reached the bridge after a bit of walking, the warm sun drying up most of the water she had in her hair, though it still felt damp. She stepped onto the small wooden bridge, walking over the river. A strategic placement. The only way to reach the village was that one bridge, and the river must be too deep for normal soldiers to swim through with their armor.

The moment they reached the other side, a dozen of villagers stood near the end of the bridge and bowed to them.

"O spirit," they intoned. Okay, only to Weld. "You honor us with your arrival, we humble ones have waited for four hundred years…"

"I am Tattletale." She stepped forward, spreading her arms wide as if presenting herself. "A spirit of knowledge!"

The villagers hesitated, their glances towards Weld, who felt more annoyed than anything. He just nodded to them, making them shout in joy.

"Two spirits!" one of the men shouted. "Prepare more for the feast! Bring them to the shrine! O honored spirits, please, let us welcome you to our village…"

"Did someone say 'feast'?" she asked.

Weld followed after her as the villagers led them to their home. The statue of the shrine had a soft smile on its lips.

And as if mirroring it, the villagers were friendly and polite. Despite himself, he found a small grin slipping on his face.


	7. Qurt and the Mole

"She showed me the light, and opened up a path I thought impossible," Saul of Qurt, to the leaders of Pavilion.

* * *

Life around here would be so much easier if everyone had cars. Another bump on the road made Taylor jump slightly, her neck sore and her back aching. It was definitely better than walking, of course, but walking was seeming more and more attractive all the time. The way from Friede to Elamia wasn't bad, but there were no roads or sights worth speaking of. They'd rested at so many villages along the way that she couldn't even remember the name of the last one.

She sighed, stretching her senses with the bugs she could gather. Amal was resting, completely ignoring the bumps and just lying there on the way-too-small seat. The bugs didn't detect any sighed again. Nothing nearby that would relieve her of this boredom.

There were more than a few wandering families leaving from the direction they were headed, carrying heavy packs on their backs.

When the soldiers stopped the carriage to talk with them, the conversations quickly ended up at the same topic. Those were the families that left Qurt. They were fleeing from it. It meant nothing good for the prince who lived there, but Taylor perked up.

They said a spirit had attacked them, someone with great power, who appeared and attacked before disappearing again for a day or two. They'd taken that chance, packed, and ran for their lives. They kept repeating the same phrase like a mantra, not deviating from it:

'Tiamat's child.'

Of course, the world was… strange enough, to say the least. She didn't like the explanations about gods and spirits, and being worshipped was a hassle that came attached with certain expectations and responsibilities, the life she thought that she had left behind when she fell through. At least they hadn't tried crowning her, though she didn't trust them not to try at some point. Besides, it did come with some perks, like having been able to get a room in the palace with actual hot water, and talking to the old king.

Amal explained that Tiamat was the goddess of beasts and animals. Bitch was a possibility, but she wouldn't just force people out of their homes.

But a beast really wasn't much to go by. Maybe some kind of Changer or Breaker, or a Brute of some sort. The fact that she had gone so long without seeing anyone with powers just meant that there weren't a lot of capes here, but having absolutely no capes had sounded a bit odd. Even Aleph had them after all. And… here was one. She felt a strange sort of anticipation.

Another bump in the road and the carriage stopped.

"We have arrived." One of the soldiers opened the door. Taylor sighed, grabbing Amal's arm and shaking her a bit until she woke up. Drowsily rubbing her eyes, she went into autopilot and tried to bow, instead rolling off the seat onto the floor, forcing her fully awake.

Taylor stood outside as Amal finally managed to get herself off the floor and out the carriage. Qurt was actually quite a distance away and the relatively small number of soldiers around them stood out pretty well near the riverbed.

The leader of the soldiers, a tall man named David, was donned in leather armor, the sign of the kingdom burned into the breastplate. He had a short sword at his side, the same as the other soldiers. He was bald, with dark eyes and a full beard, and his skin had a soft tan.

The reason they sent them with her was both for her protection, and the fact that actual knights were a waste to send in smaller groups. These were soldiers without the shiny metal armor or horses.

"The rest of the way has to be on foot," he said. "We cannot approach with the carriage, it would be too loud. Can you use your powers to warn us if there is danger, just in case?"

"As I did the last few days." Taylor nodded. From the range she had right now, she could feel the insides of the larger village, something she would hesitate to really call a city, but was definitely large enough to house a few thousand people.

Who knows how many families had left the village though? The ones they met on the road were probably not the first.

Large trees of fruit and a healthy population of insects and spiders meant she had more than enough to work with. The eerie thing was the fact that nobody was out on the streets, and she could feel people huddled together, shivering in their homes and trying not to move. "Let's go."

"Men, form up!" David said. They did. Ten soldiers, including David, marched in front of them. Amal stayed close to Taylor, walking just half a step behind her.

"Don't worry," Taylor said. "We're not going to end up ambushed."

"I'm not worried, goddess Skitter," Amal said. "As long as I am with you, I will not be in danger, I know."

"That's… not what I meant," Taylor said, shaking her head. She sighed, there was nothing she could do right now - talking to Amal often took hours before she understood some rather simple things. "Just don't stand too close in case I need to use my arm. I don't want to hurt you."

"Of course, goddess Skitter." Amal nodded, taking a small step back and out of an arm's reach. She didn't look very happy as they approached though.

"You know, you said you didn't want me to take off the mask here," Taylor mentioned. "Why is that?"

"Well, the city is a bit… liberal," Amal admitted, becoming shy all of a sudden. "Men are lacking. Only one in ten are born male, so the rumors are that the women of the village like to… experiment."

"Experiment?" Taylor asks. "Really?"

"It's what they say." Amal nodded. "I'm worried that they might grow too attached to you should you show yourself."

"Uh-huh, and end up hiding in a crate of food?"

Amal blushed, her gaze immediately moving away from Taylor as she took another half step back. Taylor grinned.

"Let's get to it," Taylor said. The village was directly in front of them, the large trees near the river casting a huge shadow over the village as the sun was setting. Taylor stretched her senses out as far as possible. Every single bug that was nearby didn't find anything that would be suspicious. One of them, though, was rather attached to something. A few more bugs confirmed that someone was badly hurt, deep in one of the homes.

"Nobody here," Taylor said. "Only the villagers in their homes. Five people in that house, ten in that, and this small hut has over twenty, some of them hurt badly…"

She started to list the houses that were empty, not many, but still a significant amount. Most people that didn't leave yet probably weren't brave enough or too hurt, or too worried about the injured.

"By the command of His Majesty, the King of Elamia, Amram the Brave, this village is now under the protection of the soldiers of this kingdom!" David shouted. "And let it be known that any who dare to stand against us shall find no mercy! Villagers of Qurt, you are free!"

The people in the houses didn't move. Didn't even shuffle at his voice. One of them, a hurt one from the small hut, reacted. They seemed to stand up, only to fall again. It took a while, but before Taylor could move towards it, the door opened slightly.

Inside was a man with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, his sweaty and dirty hair hung down to his chin and the way he stood in the doorway indicated how much of a problem he had just standing upright.

And on his head was a crown.

"Prince Moses!" one of the soldiers said, rushing forward with the others.

Moses tried to open his mouth. He said something, and Taylor could just so read what he wanted to say by the way he moved his lips.

"RUN!" Taylor shouted. The soldiers didn't even hesitate, and threw themselves backwards just in time before the ground exploded, sand and debris exploding into every direction. A cloud of dust hid whatever was inside from view…

For everyone but Taylor. She could feel the thing, the bugs crawling over it outlined its form. Large claws, probably what dug through the hard ground, and a long tail that moved left and right. The dust didn't even settle before the monster rushed through it and ripped a long wound along one of the soldier's arms, completely cutting through the leather armor.

Taylor sent Amal towards one of the houses, bracing herself as the beast leaped towards them and grabbed silk strands from her pockets.

This was definitely, without a doubt, a cape. His eyes were shut, and his head was covered with spikes that continued down his neck and back. He was naked, sand hanging off some parts of his skin, and his body reflected the sunlight, giving it a shiny appearance.

The tail looked as sharp as a good knife, and his legs as muscled as a bodybuilders. Despite this, his arms were thin and long.

Taylor threw herself forward, using thick strands of silk to block the man's swipe.

At least that was the plan. The silk held strong, but Taylor's arms didn't and he hit her suit. Though the scratch didn't penetrate, the force of the blow was enough to make her skid back over the floor, and forced her to put her weight forward in an attempt to avoid falling on her ass.

The other soldiers were already there to help, and their steps alerted that strange mole cape as well. He turned around and cut through one of the men's armor with his tail, giving her just enough time to send more and more bugs in his direction. Some were simply swatted out of the air but he ignored most of them, his skin too hard to be bitten or pierced. Taylor grit her teeth, gathering silk around her hands and jumping forward.

The mole reacted to that, ramming the spikes on his back into her chest and making her grunt at the impact. The silk was around his neck now, and Taylor found hold with her feet in between some spikes, pulling backwards. He was forced to move into the direction of her pull for a bit before he jumped backwards, hitting the home that Amal hid in and ramming her back into the wall. The spikes hurt even more this time, even if they still didn't get through her suit.

Another soldier managed to hit him, the sword making a screeching noise and sliding over skin as the monster grabbed him and moved forward to slam him against a fellow swordsman. The skin actually looked cut, so he wasn't invincible after all. Taylor didn't slack off, grip tightening around the silk and the beast was stopped just in time for the other man to dodge and ram the sword into the side of its head. Another screeching sound and blood poured from where its ear was. Bugs entered through the wounds, but the monster wasn't irritated by them.

Taylor spun around, the silk crossing, and landed on the floor. She kicked the monster in the back of the leg, giving her just enough power to throw it over her head and onto the floor. David smashed his sword into the back of its neck. Hardened skin and blood exploded upwards, making his sword fly and sending him stumbling back.

The beast was quicker this time, and vanished into a hole into the ground. Taylor's bugs were slower, and keeping them inside the tunnel was a waste. She positioned them all over the floor like a thin layer of carpet and waited for vibrations.

There weren't any. This thing was digging while leaving the ground undisturbed. But it was blind…

She stomped the ground, strongly, and took another longer rope of silk. The time she spent here wasn't wasted, and the spiders here were numerous enough for her to make silk pretty much wherever she went. A jump forward and the monster appeared behind her again, a hole in the floor and a lost of dust in the air

She really regretted losing her gun.

"SSSSSSPIRIT!" the man shouted, his voice having a strange husky and lisping sound to it. "You come here to deny me my right?"

"I came here to stop you," Taylor said. "And you're no spirit, you're just mad!"

The man jumped out of the dust and Taylor took the hit, getting the silk into his wide open mouth this time. The claws that were grabbing her shoulders hurt, but the soldiers were there and the moment it turned around, she pushed forward and managed to get the strands of silk around his face, towards the back of his neck, holding it tightly and pulling on it. His tail came this time, and jabbed into her stomach, making her let go and fall to the ground. David's sword was falling again, and Taylor didn't hesitate.

She grabbed the sword after it hit the ground with a loud noise, moving forward to the mole and swinging it without grace or form. The blade hit the base of the tail before the monster swiped it into her face, making the world explode in light. The left lense of her mask broke. Her eye hurt.

Blood and hardened skin was pouring out of the wound.

The soldiers took the distraction and managed to get multiple hits in. David was there, grabbing the silk and pulling on it.

The tail didn't move as well anymore, and two other men used the silk from before to hold his arms tightly.

Large steps, sluggish and wide, announced the appearance of Moses, holding a large spear and driving his entire body forward and into the mole's chest. The speartip was blown away, and Moses stumbled backwards as the monster's chest started to bleed. Another soldier took the opportunity.

The sword pierced the monster's chest, this time for real, and made it stumble backwards. The soldiers let go of the silk, getting out of the way of the spikes and tail as the monster turned its head to Taylor.

"I had it," he said. "I grasped it with my own two hands… the essence of the gods…"

Taylor slammed the sword into the side of his head before her vision failed her, the blurriness becoming too much and she slumped to the ground. She barely heard the cries of celebrations as the villagers left their homes, and she didn't hear Amal's worried cries at all.

Imagine an endless void. Just white. Or maybe black. Or maybe red. Imagine just one color stretching on forever, your sense of how far something is completely disturbed by the fact that you don't even know which direction is forwards, backwards, up and down.

That's pretty much what it felt like. Taylor didn't feel her body. She didn't see anything, or maybe she saw too much. She just laid there, her eyes wide open and her arms and legs not listening to her. There wasn't even a single bug.

Darkness. A woman held by red chains under a black moon.

Taylor woke up with a start, her entire body convulsing and any attempt to sit up prevented by strong hands that held her in place. "LET! ME! GO!"

She didn't think her mouth actually moved, the large buzz of insects that suddenly appeared to her senses did, though, speaking her words clearly. The hands left, and the moment she could sit upright, she took a deep breath and tried to look around.

Her left eye was bandaged, she couldn't really open it. That wasn'tt too bad. Something broken. Maybe a rib. Maybe two. Chest area hurt, back didn't hurt as much. The bugs around her spun out of control for a moment when she couldn't feel her mask on her face.

The prince, Moses, he was bowing deeply, his face on the floor despite his own injuries, and Amal looked incredibly frightened, her usually tanned skin unnaturally pale. Opening her mouth to speak, she was interrupted by Moses' loud voice.

"I apologize," he said. "The mask had to be removed for your own sake. The shards buried themselves close to your eye and had to be removed before blinding you. I apologize, and will accept any punishment, in the name of my ancestors, and take all the curses you might speak out onto me and me onl-"

"Shut… up…" Taylor said, her voice as dry as her throat. "Wa...ter."

Amal handed her a large brown bowl, and Taylor took a few sips before downing the entire thing.

"Sorry," she said. "Didn't mean to scare you, I… had a nightmare, I think."

"So even the gods dream," Moses said, his head still low.

"Would you stop that?" Taylor asked. "No curses, it's… I don't think I will need the mask for much longer."

Not with how this is going anyway. Even the cape here, that mole monster cape, called her spirit. It didn't seem like anyone thought capes were human. The month she spent here just established that fact. With the lense broken, she would need glasses, at least for the left eye. And with the level of technology around here, that might be hard to come by.

Moses looked up, and Taylor could see his red face, a pained expression. He was bandaged too, not wearing anything besides the bandages over his torso. Blood seeped from his shoulder.

"Prince Moses!" Amal said, almost outraged. "I told you to stop moving like that, your wound will just become worse!"

"Your priestess truly worries too much," Moses said. "Everything is alright. Huddled together and as hurt as I was, I didn't have time to heal properly. I will call for the healers as soon as I arrive home. Priestess Amal has told me a lot."

"Oh?" Taylor said, glancing to the girl who was putting new bandages on Moses.

"About how my little brother attempted to lay siege on Friede, and how you fought against him so valiantly, breaking him down with mere words. Truly a romantic story."

"Romantic? It was just a bit of… talking." Taylor shrugged. "Can we leave immediately? I remember your father saying something about finding caretakers."

"Yes, of course, those talks were finished ages ago, some of the older women whose daughters left home are ready to move with us," he said. "We can leave whenever you want, though you might want to grab something to eat first. You have been out for quite some time already, the exhaustion no doubt."

"You talk a lot compared to your brother," Taylor said, poking parts of her costume to review the damage. Nothing she couldn't fix quickly. That guy had a lot of blunt force and that hurt a lot.

"My father says the same." He nodded. "I want to be a diplomatic man, as a king, not much a man of action myself, you see. Aaron has always been a bit hands on. If tradition didn't demand it, I'd say that he would make the better king, but I would be a shoddy priest all the same."

"Okay."

Taylor tried to end the conversation with that, and the prince seemed to have gotten the clue. He stood up after the bandaging was finished and slowly left the room, using a crutch under his good arm to walk upright.

"What happened to… that guy?" Taylor asked.

"Dead," Amal said, looking away from Taylor. "You struck him down."

"I… yeah," Taylor said. No need to feel bad about this guy. "Is everyone okay? The soldiers?"

"Fortunately, nobody died," Amal said. "But two of the men will probably never fight again, unable to hold a sword properly. David isn't very happy."

"I see." Taylor nodded. "I'll talk to him later. Anything else? Besides you and Moses, did anyone see me without mask?"

"Nobody." Amal shook her head quickly. "We made sure to be discrete. I'm not sure how important this piece of glass was."

"My eyes aren't very good," Taylor admitted. "I need those lenses to see correctly."

Amal chewed on her lower lip, obviously something on her had already learned more than enough about her to understand at least some of the cues.

"No, I'm not perfect," Taylor said, her voice having a joking tone. "I'm not well endowed either, in case you didn't notice. Your father did."

Amal snorted, before covering her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, don't worry." Taylor shrugged. "Probably not the last time this will happen. Maybe I should just cut my hair and be done with it?"

"No!" Amal said quickly: "Please do not cut your hair!"

"Okay, okay, no need to be so vehement," Taylor said. "I do need to fix it up sooner or later, it will look horrible if this continues. I miss shampoo, jeez."

"Shampoo?" Amal looked confused, and a bit disgusted at the name.

"It's… let me explain, hm…"

It took a while of talking before the pain left, and Amal learned the greatness of hair care products.

Taylor stepped out of the home, her mask in place. Her hand touched the hole where the lense was softly, the feeling of bandages on her fingertips.

Amal was rather insistent that the eye remained bandaged until tomorrow and Taylor doubted that the throbbing pain that flared up here and there meant that her eye was any better by now. It's not like she could see well without the lense anyway.

The people cheered, bowed, the soldiers went to their knees, and the prince himself turned to greet her, sitting on the ground near the carriage. And just like that, all at once, everyone started to chant prayers. Taylor was unamused.

What drew her attention, however, wasn't the kneeling people or the bowing ones. It was a young man with a pale face, almost effeminate in appearance with long hair in a ponytail. He stood at least a head shorter than the man in front of him, David, which didn't say a lot. David was, after all, even taller than Taylor herself.

The man stood firmly, glancing towards the goddess and limiting himself to a respectful nod of the head. The situation at hand demanded his attention.

"Take me with you," the young man said. Even the pitch of his voice was high.

"To where?" David asked. The villagers turned their attention to the situation too - one of the women stood up and moved towards them.

"To the capital, let me become a soldier, let me become a knight!"

"Saul!" the woman all but hissed. "Step away from the man!"

"No," Saul said, his arm moving out in an arc, a flourished movement that didn't quite look out of place for someone like him. He could probably pull off a cape really well. "I saw battle! I saw victory! And I wish to protect our goddess as much as she protected us."

David took a deep breath, glancing up and down the young man. "No."

"What?!"

The prince stayed out of it, Taylor saw, but he gave an almost unnoticeable nod to David. He would let him handle this one. "Am I lacking dedication? I will split mountains with a sword!"

"I cannot make you a soldier," David said. "I cannot make you a murderer."

"Are you saying I lack strength, sir? To do what it takes for our kingdom?"

"Yes," David said bluntly, grabbing Saul's hand suddenly and pulling it up. "With hands like a girl and the face of a woman, you will not be able to hold a sword."

"But there are women in the majesty's army!" Saul cried. Taylor moved up to them.

"Aye, and all of them have trained for years, honed their skills, their hands are full of calluses," David let go of the hand as Saul pulled, stumbling backwards. "You? You are here on a whim. You saw battle, _one_ battle against a spirit, and think there is glory to be found on the battlefield. We fight not for our own honor, but for the honor of our kingdom. What will you fight for?"

"For our goddess, who protect- Goddess Skitter!" Saul saw her coming and immediately went to his knees.

"Don't kneel," Taylor said. "He's not wrong."

Saul's eyes widened, and Taylor felt almost as if she kicked a puppy. "B-but…"

"No, believe me, constantly fighting can become tedious. It hurts, not just you, but everyone around you," Taylor explained. "If you want to help people, I'm sure that there are more peaceful ways than excessive violence. Escalation isn't the answer to every problem."

"Are you saying I should be a priest?"

"That's not what I'm saying at all…" - "That's exactly what she's saying."

Taylor glanced at Amal as Amal looked away. With a click of her tongue, she turned back to Saul. "Don't join the army, you will just hurt people. You can just come to the orphanage in Elamia instead, raise the less fortunate kids…"

He wasn't even listening her anymore, staring at Amal instead.

"Does she accept priests, high priestess?"

"Everyone is accepted, even idolaters, the is no discrimination," Amal confirmed. Taylor shook her head.

"Fuck this, we're leaving," Taylor pointed towards the carriage.

"This early?" one of the villagers said. A nubile young woman with bright blue eyes and a strange hat, formed like a triangle. "We would love to have you stay-"

"She said we're leaving." Amal opened the carriage and helped Taylor step in. The latter hissed in pain, while two other carriages came forth from behind homes, one for the women and one for the prince. The way towards Elamia would be… painful, as he saw her injuries. "Are you alright?"

"No," Skitter grabbed her face and chest. "I think that might have broken my neck at another angle."

Taylor hissed in pain when Amal put her hand onto her shoulder, as softly as possible.

"You shouldn't put yourself in such danger!" Amal said. Taylor looked up. "What would happen if you died? The city would be under the control of that monster!"

"He would have been killed." Taylor shrugged. "Not the worst thing I fact that he's here just proves my point. If he landed here, then my friends might also be nearby."

Though he wasn't really there at the Echidna event. And he called her Spirit.

"The prince said that the beast appeared and demanded to be worshipped," Amal explained. "Completely different from you."

"And?"

"You weren't wrong," she muttered. "People in your world kept fighting, didn't they? Where the spirits live?"

"They did." Taylor nodded. "We don't call them spirits. Parahumans is our term. Nothing religious about it."

"Maybe it's the difference between cultures?" Amal tried. The first time she actually accepted another explanation besides divinity. "What is normal for you was named differently for us?"

"That's what I think, yes," Taylor said. "But you claim that spirits were here hundreds of years ago-"

She winced when the carriage moved forward and hit the first bump in the road.

"Yes." Amal nodded. "That's how the history books tell it."

"History has a great way of exaggerating," Taylor said. "This kingdom is just a small part of the world, right? Maybe we can find my comrades across the sea, near the empire?"

"Maybe." Amal looked away. "Or maybe in any of the other kingdoms. I suggest you try to visit Pavilion first. It's a theocracy and Elamia's oldest ally."

"Let's try that then." Taylor shrugged. "They're closer, and this will take a while to heal properly."

Amal nodded, chewing on her lower lip. Taylor knew she felt bad about the injuries, but Amal wasn't likely to listen anyway.

"How about I tell you something from my home? I have some stories," Taylor tried. Amal's eyes brightened.

"Really? About Helel and Iblis?"

"No, no, about my friends. You know, Regent, Grue, Imp, Tattletale… uh, Bitch."

"One of your friends is named… Bitch?"

"That's obviously not her real name, she has a lot of dogs and can make them grow to big monsters…"

The talk went on for a long time. Amal stopped worrying, and Taylor was able to ignore her pain for some time. If she gave the king more detailed descriptions, maybe people could look more efficiently.


	8. Not Quite Pavilion

" _She sat across me, choking on a drink, and everyone started laughing. Had I known, I wouldn't have dared to, but she took it in stride," Vincent the hunter, on how he met Skitter._

* * *

Taylor's eyelids lay heavy, her head hurting incredibly badly. Her ribs, after a thorough checking, didn't seem to be broken, though she was pretty shaken up. Her entire body was in pain. So she shut it out. Tried to distract herself as much as possible, by paying attention to her swarm, the movement of the cart, the people around her.

It worked after a fashion. She fell asleep. When she woke up, Despite the back and forth shaking and jumps of the cart, she couldn't open her eyes. Her eyes fluttered as pain burned in her head. When the pain left, she could feel a modicum of control over her own body return to her.

Her vision was black, even when she felt her eyes open. She tried to use her bugs to check the surroundings, the way she'd done when Coil had blinded her before, but it didn't work. The sound of Amal's voice seemed to be coming through a broken radio held underwater.

She held still.

Amal was worried. Skitter wasn't responding. Amal could see Skitter's right eye through the transparent lens, staring almost closed when it wasn't fluttering open and unfocused. Shaking her shoulder hadn't had any effect, and in the end she had to shout for the carriage to stop and have the soldiers carry Skitter out. She hadn't thought about the impact that might have on them - the important thing had been for her goddess to have fresh air….

"This looks bad," Captain David said. "She received strong hits, but I thought spirits were more resilient…"

"Yes," Amal said. "I thought so too, but she fought a spirit. Maybe that had something to do with it? What should we do?"

"Be faster," Prince Moses said. "Get to the healers, this isn't something we can treat out here."

"This isn't something anyone can treat," Captain David said. "These kind of injuries aren't something people recover from." Belatedly he made a sign of respect. "Prince Moses."

"Then all that remains are our prayers," Moses said. Amal brushed some of Taylor's hair away from the lenses before the soldiers carefully loaded her in the carriage again. Blood was dripping out of her nose and ears, staining her hair and face when she removed the mask inside the carriage..

"I will ride ahead," David said, "follow swiftly and keep her head from shaking around too much."

The man who sat in front of the carriage nodded.

Taylor was falling again.

She felt pressure from every direction. The wind whipped up her hair, the world around her vanishing piece by piece.

She looked down and saw a world. A planet full of green and blue. But the colours were the only familiar thing about it; the continents seemed completely shifted around. There were no large cities. No tall buildings, only castles and villages. No cars or airplanes.

She saw countless lives. She saw insects, spiders, fish, and wolves. She saw every animal imaginable.

She saw humans. Not so different from the ones she was used to, dressed in all kinds of clothes, from rags, to silk, to armor.

The pressure increased, starting to feel like hands. Hundreds of them touching her, pressing down on her body, as if trying to flatten her under their strength. Despite seeing all the insects, she couldn't control them. Despite feeling the pressure, she couldn't fight against it. She flailed.

As she approached the floor, bracing for impact, she felt the world break apart. Light and life was replaced with darkness and dread as the green under her ripped open like a wet paper towel. She tried to open her mouth, but her jaw wouldn't move. She tried to move her arms, but they felt like lead.

And then the feeling of pressure was gone. She felt her arms burning up as her body came to a sudden stop and was thrown around like a ragdoll.

Chains. White, looking incredibly unnatural against the blackness around her. They were around her arms, leaving her hanging, and hurting her.

She felt drained. The kind of feeling one had after a very hard exam, when all you could do was walk back home lifelessly and crash on the bed, yet the tiredness never came. The pain kept her aware.

And then, slowly, besides her pain and the sense of touch, the other senses returned to her. She could hear screams. She could smell blood. She could taste a vile taste that might be vomit.

And her eyes showed her a mountain. Vast and incredible.

Atop it was a woman, or maybe a very feminine looking man. She sat there, looking as large as the mountain. Black chains bound her to it, keeping her hands locked together.

The woman didn't quite smile.

She didn't quite frown either. An entire spectrum of emotions flickered on her face for just a fraction of a second before it settled in an apathetic façade.

"Not so different."

The voices were numerous. Child, man, woman, all of them fused together into a barrage and exploded so close to Taylor's ear that she screamed in pain.

"You and me," the woman said. Voices exploded once more, making Taylor fight against the chains in an attempt to escape. "Taylor."

The burning feeling on her arms was nothing compared to the ringing in her ears. Taylor blacked out.

Taylor had her eyes closed as she woke up.

She could feel hands on her head, removing bandages. She could feel something warm being wiped away from her right ear and nose. She reached out for her bugs with a short stab of fearful anticipation, and sighed in relief; her control over them was back, as complete as it had ever been. She looked through their senses, and the too-loud sounds and too-bright lights made her immediately regret it. There were human-shaped shadows moving about.

One of them was Amal.

She coughed as a strong stench entered her nose, gasping for air. She lifted her back off the softness underneath,and was unceremoniously pushed down again.

"Stay down," she heard. The sounds became less and less annoying. "What's going on?"

"She is healing," another voice said. "Much quicker than I expected. Spirits are truly mysterious…"

But Taylor shouldn't have been healing quicker. She shouldn't have been healing any better than anyone else. She wasn't a spirit…

Or did people around here just heal slower? As she understood it, ancient medicine wasn't all that effective…

Her jaw felt heavy. She couldn't say anything. The bugs swirled around, gathering. She concentrated on what she did before and tried to organize them to make noises close enough to speech.

"Water."

The bugs buzzed loudly, making the people around nervous. Almost immediately they began moving away from her. Amal didn't, though. Or at least, she assumed the girl was Amal. Some seconds later, she felt cool water touching her lips. She tried to swallow, but it was hard, and she began coughing immediately, Amal moving her head slightly so the water could escape her mouth.

Her eyes still shut, the light way too bright, Taylor just stayed where she was. Amal helped her take a sip again, and the other people continued what they were doing. Her throat felt better and better after a lot of water.

The bandage around her left eye was removed completely, and she felt warm liquid drip out of her ear. It was painful. Soft cloths dabbed at and removed the liquid.

Taylor concentrated on her bugs, tried to offload the pain, ignore it. It was harder than ever, her breathing shallow and her eyes fluttering open now and then whenever someone touched her.

The pain in her chest was gone, replaced by, a numb feeling spreading over her skin from something smeared across it. Some kind of herbal ointment, she guessed, and sighed in relief as she was able to breathe more easily.

The hours were too many to count. They kept her down whenever short bursts of pain made her arch her back. They kept going with the entire treatment, washing her hair, Amal keeping her company. She felt uncomfortable, unable to move on her own, but she started to feel better and better.

When she finally fell asleep, she was exhausted nonetheless.

She dreamt of her friends and family.

Taylor woke up and saw the ceiling. Not just through one eye, but through both, and she couldn't feel any glasses or lenses on her face.

The mask was gone, lying beside her, as was the suit. She was dressed in some of the finer robes that she had seen on some of the richer women. Sitting up, she began touching her head and ribs, touched her eye. Nothing. No pain. No wounds.

Cloth full of blood, bandages en masse and herbs were on one of the tables. She stretched slightly, enjoying how unrestricted the clothes felt and checked the surroundings with her insects. Nothing special, two armed guards outside the door…

And Amal. A bit late for someone who should be better aware, but it might be because she was so close. Amal was lying on a large blanket next to the bed she was on, sleeping deeply. She had rings under her eyes, and looked more exhausted than Taylor had ever felt.

Taking a sip out of the cup of water next to her, she sighed.

' _What the fuck happened?'_ she thought. The past few days have been nothing but darkness and a blur. Her memories mixing together like crazy. The way from Qurt to Elamia must have taken at least a few days, if they had hurried. Was she out for that long?

She stretched again, moved her body slightly and took a deep breath before taking a look at her mask. Not one person here knew her. Everyone assumed she was some kind of spirit, and that in over a month of denying it.

The mask would be useful when fighting, but right now she didn't need it. She touched her face again, making sure that there was nothing there. No contact lenses either. Well, that's one part of her charm gone, she wouldn't complain.

The suit, though, was in dire need of some cleaning. They looked like they worked out some blood, but by now she could probably make a better one with the silk around here. Project one, new costume.

She didn't want to wake Amal up, though, and stepped out of the bed silently, taking a small leap over the girl and sitting down on a chair nearby. She had most of the silk to work on one already, the amount of spiders here being a lot higher than in the city, but it would still take a week or two to get them all together and make something decent out of it.

If she walked outside, Amal would just worry, so she tried to relax, and gather her thoughts.

Thinking about the past few days made her head hurt. The injuries healed too quickly. It made no sense, she should still be out of it, or worse, dead. It was a sickening to think how quickly she could have died here - how much she missed the support of her team.

With the help of the Undersiders, she would have won that fight in a few seconds. Imp could have taken him down on her own, if she wanted to, as long as she had one of those swords. Imp would probably love to get her hands on one of those swords.

The endless amount of spiders moved to a more abandoned location and began to make silk that she would gather later. A few seconds later, she felt someone approaching. Short steps, three legs. No, a crutch. Someone was with him. Crowns.

The door opened, Amal waking up immediately at the loud squeaking sound. Her first reaction was to jump up, check the bed, and immediately making a high pitched sound at it, before turning to the door. Amram and Moses stood there, looking at Taylor while Amal bowed deeply.

"I'm sorry, my king, I don't know where she went," she squeaked out. Taylor coughed slightly, making her turn around. Amal immediately straightened and turned around, tackling Taylor in a hug and almost knocking the chair over, before realizing what she did and taking a step back. "I'm so sorry! Are you in pain, are - are you laughing?"

Taylor chuckled, standing up and nodding to the king and prince before turning to Amal. "I'm okay, nothing hurts."

"That's… that's a relief," Amal immediately took the place of Taylor on the chair. The king smiled at her. "I'll… just rest my eyes."

"Of course," Taylor said, turning to the king again. "Good day."

"Welcome back, Goddess Skitter," Amram said, nodding back. Moses bowed deeply, practiced and with a flourish, but not the least bit sarcastic. "I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, that you have saved my son. Anything you desire shall be yours."

"I need a ship," Taylor said. "Amal suggested to visit Pavilion, and from the maps, I doubt that there is a bridge spanning that large a distance."

Amram nodded.

"Indeed, we have sent messengers across the entire country already, in search for your comrades. The moment something is heard, we shall send one to my brother in Pavilion."

"Thank you," Taylor said. "Please don't hurry, I have some stuff to do before leaving."

"Very well." The king nodded. "Might I suggest visiting the orphanage?"

"A good idea," Taylor said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, o spirit. Should you require anything else, please come to me, all the doors in Elamia are open to you."

Moses smiled a charming smile at her before leaving after his father. The two armed men followed after the king on his command. She could hear the king's words through the bugs on the walls.

"Leave the priestess to rest," he said. "She's had a rough week."

Taylor woke up Amal by shaking her shoulder and helped her towards the bed, letting her lay down and tucking her in. Gathering the bugs on the walls and sending them forward, Taylor began navigating out of the castle, letting Amal rest.

The streets of Elamia were as she remembered them, though a few papers were spread here and there with her mask on it.

"Seeking for Goddess Skitter's comrades," she read aloud. "Come to Elamia, spirits of old, King Amram invites you all."

That doesn't sound suspicious at all, of course. But they probably would come even _if_ this was a trap, just to find her. Hopefully. She dreaded to think about what Tattletale might do.

When she eventually arrived at the old location of the broken home that the kids lived in, she found a largely renovated building. Not bad work for… however long she was out. People were running around inside, and she stepped up to the door, knocking on it.

It was a too late when she realized that she had forgotten to put on the mask, and she wasn't sure anyone would recognize her face without it. She hoped that they would recognize her hair at least. The door opened, revealing Iman, dressed in what Taylor thought might be some kind of apron, with a baby in her arm.

"Hello?" she said.

"Hello, Iman," Taylor smiled. "I don't have my mask with me, but…"

Taylor lifted her hand up, a bunch of fireflies landing in it and lighting up slightly, not very visible under daylight.

"O-oh spirit!" Iman said, stepping away from the door. "I apologize for my rudeness, I didn't know you were well already, it has been over a week since you have returned so badly hurt, please, please step in."

Taylor did, looking around. Umbra was standing there, holding Ven—the kid that was so angry at her so long ago—in a headlock. The moment he saw her, though, he let go, standing upright before bowing.

"Welcome, goddess!" he said. Well, he recognized her, at least. Ven didn't do the same, and while she didn't mind, Umbra grabbed his head and tried to make him bow. "I don't care if you don't like her, she made this possible!"

"It's okay," Taylor said. Umbra looked up, his eyes widened slightly. "I don't care about all that bowing and stuff, just call me Skitter."

Taylor might be a name that might crop up here and there, Skitter was easier to manage when she wanted to find her friends. The younger children around there accepted her words immediately, and even when one of the women she recognized from Qurt tried to rein them in, some jumped up and down and hugged her around the legs, rushing around her. It was quite the spectacle.

"Calm down," Taylor said, crouching down. It almost felt like Brockton Bay again. The kids deserved something better. "How is it going, Iman?"

"Quite well." Iman's smile was splitting her face. "We have so many helping hands, and built two more orphanages around here. With the king's help, we might be able to get more children more help, the problem is with the older ones, that don't get a chance at becoming an apprentice to find some work."

"I'm sure they can find something outside of the city," Taylor said. "Maybe move a few men as farmers to Qurt."

Iman laughed, understanding the implication, and shook her head slightly.

"Maybe, but most want to help the orphanage when they grow up," Iman explained.

The children moved to another room, Umbra and Ves remaining with a red haired girl. The girl got a nod from Umbra before moving up to Taylor, looking up to her.

"Yes?" Taylor said.

The girl tried to lean up, and Taylor leaned further down.

"I think Ves likes you," she whispered.

"Oh?" Taylor said, looking at the boy. "I think he has to grow up a bit, and I already have someone."

Well, wherever Brian was right now, he better not have a bunch of girls all over him.

The girl giggled before moving to Umbra and Ven, whispering something into their ears.

"Where's Amal?" Iman asked as Taylor turned away from the kids.

"Resting. She looks like she was awake for quite some time," Taylor explained. Iman nodded.

"She didn't leave your side, even when the healers confirmed you were healing well," Iman said. "I'm glad that you are alright, spirit."

"Same." Taylor smiled. "I have an errand to run, thanks for the welcome. I will talk to you later, okay?"

"Goodbye," Iman bowed as Taylor left through the door.

Taylor's path immediately led her to the already impossibly large amount of silk she prepared. This would take some time, she sighed, but it would be worth it. The question was how she was going to color it, the ugly yellow and white of normal silk wasn't really her style.

Taylor took the silk back to the room where Amal was sleeping - her home in Elamia, as it stood, until she had no need for it anymore. When she first woke up, she had thought it was some kind of room for the doctors, or healers as they called them here.

When she was done with that, and seeing that Amal was still sleeping, she went out again. Compared to Brockton Bay, where she had to go to school, make sure the spiders bred and produced silk for her costume, and keep all her work hidden, Taylor had more freedom here. It allowed her to go out while the spiders were working on the costume, without fear of anyone interrupting them. Her range allowed her to step quite a distance away from the castle.

Eventually she ended up at an inn. Like many others she had been in, this one was filled to the brim and some people were either renting rooms or just drinking rather early in the morning. This time, however, she had neither costume nor mask.

Right now she wasn't Skitter the spirit as everyone called her, she was just another stranger in the inn. It was quite a different atmosphere than the castle, and she sat down at one of the tables. A man stepped around the crowd and came up to her.

"What will it be, little miss?" he asked. Taylor smiled.

"Something warm," she said, feeling incredibly hungry. The castle's dining room was incredibly lonely due to the size, and Amal was still out of it. "Just something to fill my stomach for now."

"Okay," he nodded, moving back again. A few more men sat down at the previously empty table, and a woman joined in a bit later. Some people left, new people entered.

"Oi, oi," one of the man said after ordering himself some beverages. "I don't think I ever saw you 'round here."

"I'm new in town," Taylor said. "Enjoying the sights a bit."

"Ah, aye, a beautiful city isn't it? Elamia, once great capital of the islands before the other kingdoms decided they wanted a share."

"I'm not well versed in history," Taylor admitted. "I know about the basics, but besides Elamia, I'm not too sure about the other kingdoms."

"Well, we all follow one faith, for one," the man said. "Great spirits, like the great Skitter who descended and saved the prince! But their kings are greedy, they waged war against us aided by the republic."

"A patriot through and through!" the woman at the table shouted. "And we are still part of the empire!"

"Independence isn't necessarily better," another man said. He looked leaner than the first one, a short beard under his chin and a hat on his head. "We have seen years of peace and prosperity."

"And what good is peace when it is under the flag of those mice?"

"Those mice ripped through our armies," the leaner man said. "They won, and we lost, and our children don't suffer from it. The king made a smart decision."

"Bah," the bigger man snarled. "Like hell he did, we will never be truly free now."

"Calm down," Taylor said, seeing the man she thought was the owner approach with her food. She paid the man and he put it down on the table.

"So what's your opinion, then?" the bigger man asked. The leaner man glanced at her. Taylor raised an eyebrow.

"Honestly?" she said. "I don't really care. I'm not from around here."

"From the empire then?"

"Nope," Taylor shook her her head.

"From the southern countries then? Where they speak an entirely different language?"

"Do I speak an entirely different language?" Taylor asked, taking a bite out of the meal on the table. It felt good to fill her stomach…

"No," the man leaned over the table, glancing at her sidewards. "You look like you come from the west, but you don't come from the islands. The fuck are you from?"

"You wouldn't know it even if I told you." Taylor shrugged, continuing her meal.

"Trying to be all mysterious, ehh?"

"If you say so," Taylor took a sip of the drink besides it, immediately coughing and spitting it back into the cup. It burned.

"Hahaha!" the people at the table started to laugh, and the leaner man spoke up. "Can't hold your liquor?"

"I didn't know it was alcohol, I don't drink," she coughed more, trying to get the feeling out of her throat. "Damn…"

"Bit young to drink, ahaha," the big man said. "My son was able to drink two of those when he was 12 years, that boy!"

"Of course," the woman on the table jeered. "He weighed as much as two pigs!"

"Take that back!"

Taylor grabbed some water from the owner. That shit was strong.


	9. Tiamat's Daughter

" _She stood before us, and with her came the beasts. She looked young, but her presence weighed down on us…. and all she asked for was food." - Miriam of the Western Forests._

* * *

Rachel didn't feel well. The darkness and silence around her stretched on forever, her sense of smell was gone. It reminded her of Grue's power, and she didn't like it.

It pissed her off, not being able to see or feel her dogs. She felt cold wind on her skin a mere moment before crashing into a branch, gasping as the wind was knocked out of her. She held on to it, stopping herself from falling and took a bit to recover before pulling herself up and looking around, using the branch as a vantage point.

The tree she was on was tall, surrounded by more trees. The thick brush hid the ground - not that she'd be able to see it anyway, given how dark it was. She whistled loudly.

Nothing.

If her dogs were anywhere nearby, they would have immediately started running towards her, but the forest gave no hint that anything was responding, remaining eerily silent.

She saw insects on the tree before her, but they weren't moving in patterns like they usually would under Taylor's control. It didn't matter. She gritted her teeth and made her way down through the lower branches, finally getting to the solid ground. It was… less uneasy.

Soft wind blew, rustling the leaves of trees and bushes. The night air was warm, and the wind was cool on her face. The fact that her mask was missing came to her a bit late, but it wasn't like she actually needed it. Without much of a choice, she kept going forward, towards the direction of the wind. Her stomach still hurt, but she could ignore a few bruises. At least she hadn't landed on anything vital.

Sadly, after quite a while of walking, she felt hungry. Incredibly so. She hadn't eaten in awhile, the fighting hadn't left time for that. She didn't know if the berries on some of the brush were poisonous or not, and she knew better than to eat strange berries.

Despite herself, though, she grabbed some of them, stuffing them down her pockets. Maybe she could ask someone when she met them. The wind started to carry a smell the further she went, a smell familiar to Brockton Bay - the sea.

She arrived at the seaside still hungry and tired. Water as far as she could see, all of it undrinkable, and a cave towards the direction the wind was blowing. In the distance, she could see lights in the darkness, too far away to get there without collapsing. Her stomach making angry noises, she shook her head.

Turning towards the cave, she stepped down the beach and moved towards the stony hills, walking down the shore until she arrived at the smaller entrance. Crouching down, she stepped in, finding the cave slightly cooler than the forests. Too tired to care, she found a place near a wall and leaned on it, closing her eyes.

Growls woke her up. Not those of her stomach, but more guttural, dangerous ones. Opening her eyes slightly, still exhausted but definitely more rested than last night, she saw six wolves. For one moment she thought that maybe her dogs came back, but rubbing the sleep out of her eyes snuffed that hope out.

The cave was slightly more lit now that the sun was out, a few holes in the ceiling letting sunlight in. Greyish-red fur over slight builds. They were smaller than the wolves that she was familiar with, but, that didn't make their claws and jaws any less fatal. .

Still a bit dazed from the sleep, she felt tense, avoiding any sudden movements. If she could take out the alpha, she might find a way to establish dominance or scare them away..

One of them stepped forward, growling loudly, its teeth bared at her. Despite that, they didn't attack. She didn't move.

The oldest looking wolf, the alpha with a few scars on his body, took another step forward and she got ready to fight if necessary - though she knew her chances were slim, being hungry and outnumbered. The wolf… sat down. Right in front of her and stopped growling.

The other wolves followed suit.

She blinked, getting up from the floor. The wolves' heads followed her, but they didn't attack when she moved along the wall towards the entrance again. Slowly stepping out, still keeping an eye on the wolves, she hit the back of her head on a few stones, hissing in pain. When she finally stood at the shore again, the surrounding forest now better visible under the sunlight, the wolves followed her out of the cave as well.

She could see mountains in the distance, and a thick fog even further than that. The forest seemed even larger and more intimidating in the day, and she could hear animals now, the brush moving back and forth in the wind.

That wasn't strange at all. Definitely not. She went to her knees and stuck out her hand. The wolf that started to sit first moved up and poked his nose at her hand before licking it. Wiping her hand on her clothes, she stood up again and the wolves followed every step. She could live with that, for now - this was advantageous, but it didn't solve her lack of food or freshwater.

As if reading her thoughts, the wolves moved towards the forest and one of them looked at her. She sighed, following after them slowly. The wolves didn't stop until they finally arrived at a small pond. Not having anything to lose, and still having to move towards the lights from last night, she took a sip, feeling the water soothe her throat. She continued until she was sated, but it didn't do much for the pain in her stomach. This time though, the wolves didn't react.

They kept staring at her. The soft wind blew again, this time carrying a smell through the rustling leaves that made her stomach gurgle. Something was being cooked, and the wolves reacted to it as well, turning towards it. She didn't care, moved towards the wind.

The walk was exhausting, again, and she felt her stomach aching. The wolves followed behind her, and half an hour later she wasn't much nearer the source of the smell. Sitting down next to a tree, she leaned back and tried to gather her strength. One of the wolves whined.

It wasn't smart, but it was the only one she had. Looking at the wolf, she concentrated her power on him and made him grow. He remained sitting there, as if nothing was happening, until the transformation was complete. The other wolves made noises, but didn't react much besides that. Sitting down on his back, they continued their journey, much quicker now.

It didn't take much longer with the increased speed, when they reached a place with more sparse trees and a camp she could see through the trees. The other wolves lagged behind, but the one she sat on was still going strong, and would probably do so for a bit more before her power stopped working.

At least a dozen people sat near the camp, bows and arrows slung on their backs and grilling meat over a large fire. One of the women, a bit older than the rest of the crowd, was the first to notice the large wolf.

Turning around, she smoothly unslung her bow and nocked an arrow in it. Then the woman's eyes widened, and the rest of the hunters sprang to their feet. When they saw her sitting on the wolf, the woman immediately went to her knees.

First the wolves, then the humans. Like hell.

"Need food," she ground out, raspy from hunger and thirst. The huntress turned to a young woman, maybe seventeen years old or so.

"An offering," the huntress said. "For a god, for a spirit…"

The young woman lowered her bow and went to grab some of the meat from the camp. Bitch didn't really care what they called her.

The huntress took the food and slowly shuffled towards her, giving her a large dripping chunk on a stick.

Food had never tasted this good.

She had finally finished eating when the transformation reversed, and the other wolves stepped out of the forest to join their kin when she stepped down. The hunters were all on their knees as she ate, their heads lowered.

When she made a satisfied sigh, she looked towards the wolves, slightly guilty at forgetting them and pointed towards them. "Some of it for them too."

They obliged.

"Oh great and merciful," the older huntress said. "I, Miriam, huntress of these parts, beg of you, bless our hunts."

Bitch tilted her head.

"What?"

"You bear great powers, do you not?" Miriam asked, her head lowered.

"I guess?" She'd never considered her power great. Useful, sure. Great? Eh.

"Thus, you must be a spirit, or even Tiamat herself!"

"I'm Bitch," Rachel said. Some of the hunters coughed, looking away. "I'm looking for my teammates."

"O great and merciful Bitch," Miriam began. "We of Thuban humbly welcome you to our city. If you were to wish for it, we would give it to you."

Rachel shook her head, not really understanding the whole situation. The most she could get out of this was that she was invited, and that she could have anything she wanted. Maybe they felt threatened? It's not like people would just give someone their belongings.

But with those wolves, she could defend herself now. Though it seemed like she'd need to teach them some basic commands, they had some great intuition.

"No."

She had everything she needed right now. She could look for the others on her own.

"I beg your pardon?" Miriam asked.

"Looking for people, I have no time for you," Rachel said. "Where am I?"

"You are in the kingdom of Thuban, the western forests to be exact," Miriam explained. "I can offer you a map so you know where to travel, if that is what you wish."

"Good." Rachel nodded. Miriam stepped up and gave it to her, and Rachel opened up finding nothing familiar on it. Not that it mattered. There was a lot she didn't know, like reading. "Where are we?"

The woman pointed at a tree shape left of a city shape on the map, in the left part of the forests. "The only kingdom you can reach from here without a ship would be Aziz."

"I'm looking for the others," Rachel said. "For my dogs too."

"Dogs?" Miriam asked. "Those domesticated wolves? It's not a practice that we have here, we hunt with our hands, it's more usual in the north-west."

"Then that's where I'll go."

It wasn't exactly sound logic, but at least it was a plan.

"Let us offer you tribute," Miriam said quickly. "Rations for your journey, spirit Bitch."

Rachel just nodded, still suspicious about their strange generosity.

The path was hard. The six wolves, even at top speed, couldn't get her out of the forest in days of following the same route. It was a really, really large forest. The few people she met on the more beaten roads all moved out of the way, it was easier traveling on them.

The food was enough, and whenever she ran out, she took a tip from Miriam about which berries one could eat and which she couldn't. The wolves hunted their own food most of the time.

The alpha she dubbed Benjamin. The transformation worked on him the longest.


	10. The City of Funke

" _I had heard of her, of course, Goddess Skitter, Spirit of Nature, benevolent and merciful, and I had heard of her dark robes, to hide her face, to protect her body. At last, her pilgrim went towards us…" Mumbia of Funke._

* * *

Taylor held the silk up. It took the better part of a week to finish the new costume, more elaborate than the old one with some of the better silk of the local spider population. The king gave her a room where she could work on this, but ultimately, it was she who would have to color it.

There were only a few colors available. She honestly didn't care that much anymore, but red was the only choice between a bright yellow and a strange kind of green she never wanted to look at again. A lot of things in Elamia were red, and yes, it was actually a symbol for blood.

While the new mask didn't look very different from the old one, even though the lenses were missing, it was painted in the dark red dye she was given. She would keep the old costume in reserve, of course, but this one seemed a bit sturdier, not that she wanted to test it out for now.

She locked the door and started to take off the comfortable robes, putting on her costume, leaving the mask in the bag. If it had been this easy making one before, she would have three of them. Admittedly, now she had some experience at it, though. The new costume fit perfectly. She put the old clothes into one of the silken bags before slinging it over her shoulder.

There had been an agreement with Khalil for years now, allowing her passage towards Pavilion, like every other person, no matter the nationality. One of the king's ships would wait there, but the first stop would have to be Funke, around the same distance away from here as Qurt, towards the north-west.

Unlocking the door again and stepping out, she made a beeline for the dining room, where Amal was waiting for her, sitting in front of a feast. Despite not feeling very hungry, she sat down next to her, and moments later, before she had the time to even say something, both Aaron and Moses stepped through another door.

"Good morning, Skitter." Moses bowed, while Aaron gave a respectful nod. "And good morning, high priestess."

"Good morning," both of them mumbled back. Taylor waited until both of them were seated before speaking up again. "Where is King Amram?"

"He hasn't been feeling well lately," Moses explained. "I fear for him, his old age is catching up, and he feels that he has still so much to teach me."

"Ah," Taylor said, looking at the table. Of course, she couldn't imagine what she would feel like if her father was dead, and considering the month she has been around here, she didn't even know how he reacted to her vanishing. "I hope he feels better soon."

"Do not fret," Moses said. Aaron seemed content to let his brother speak, filling his plate meanwhile. "Your visit has fulfilled him, it is I that he is worried about. What kind of king will I be for the people? He will always be King Amram the Pious."

Amal tapped Taylor's arm slightly while Moses was talking, making her look to her. She subtly nodded towards Aaron, who seemed to grow more agitated as the rather loud monologue of Moses went on.

"I am worried that I will be a no-good king," Moses eventually finished, making Aaron slam his hand on the table. Amal jumped slightly, while Moses looked at his brother, curious.

"Talking like that makes you unfit to be a king," Aaron said. "What would father say if he heard you? He would just fall over dead, because you broke his heart!"

Moses' eyebrows rose at the vehemence in his brother's words.

Taylor knew she could end this conversation immediately if she wanted, but it wasn't really her business. She hadn't been wearing the mask for the past week, so most of the castle staff was already familiar with her, even though most people in the streets still didn't know it was her when she came to visit.

"I do not believe a king has to be certain of everything he does," Moses said. "Having worries and doubts will make one cautious."

"And a king too cautious will bring us to ruin! The only thing that stopped the war we were winning to reclaim the entire island was the empire, what will you do as a king? We have soldiers, trained and ready, we have the means to fight this war."

"We have the patriots," Moses said. "But I do not have the spirit in me to command men to die. The empire-"

"Will not care about us fighting as long as the tribute is paid, and we have more than enough food to feed half of them while not starving here," Aaron interrupted. "But if we do not strike first, then we will be destroyed as soon as you ascend the throne!"

"I am sure the gods will protect the pious," Moses said.

"The gods are gone!" Aaron slammed his hand on the table again, standing up and knocking over his chair. "And all we have is a woman who travels around and will leave you as soon as she has found the others."

Taylor coughed, loudly, drawing the attention of both men towards her.

"I'm here," she said, her tone flat. "And I would appreciate it if you don't talk as if I'm not."

"I… apologize," Aaron said.

"Don't worry, I know you don't mean it," Taylor shrugged. Aaron grimaced. "I appreciate all you've done for me, and I'm glad that I could find a place with so many wonderful people, and while I would prefer not to meddle in the politics of some country I don't belong to, war isn't a solution."

"Good luck stopping it then, Strife be damned," Aaron muttered. Taylor narrowed her eyes.

She might have the power to stop it, but the measures would be drastic. It would involve threatening every other nation, and who knows if they don't have a cape of their own hidden somewhere, who might beat her own power.

"Let's go, Amal," Taylor said, standing up. Moses did too, but Taylor's stare sent him sitting back down. Amal followed her out of the dining room, down the halls before sighing in relief.

"It fits you," Amal said, looking at the costume. Changing the topic was good.

"Thanks," Taylor said. "I'm not really sure about red, I liked it darker. Are you sure this won't be some kind of proof of allegiance or something?"

"Red is a fashionable color." Amal shrugged. "It's not just the color of Elamia."

"Alright," Taylor said. "I'd prefer if we could hurry - grab horses and supplies and leave without guard. The king agreed after a bit of talking."

"Are you sure? What if... "

"Don't worry, it's unlikely we are going to meet someone like that again."

Taylor opened the door to her room and grabbed a few more bags on the table, stuffing them all together into the bag with the clothes. She wasn't a fan of riding horses, but riding a carriage was even worse on the long run. These people need cars, dammit. Bugs alerted her to someone approaching.

When she opened the door, Moses stood there, looking apologetic, his hand in the air to knock.

"I hope you are not leaving this early because of us," he said. Taylor shook her head.

"Better leave in the morning, so we can make haste," Taylor said. Amal was still packing some things up behind her.

"Very well, I wish to give you a gift, though, something to keep you safe," he said, grabbing a small sword from his sheath was in a similar color as her new costume.

"That's… kind," Taylor said, softly grasping the sword. At least a weapon, though she really had no idea how to use as word. It was like a big knife, mostly, cut and stab, right?

"Let me grab the horses, I will let you finish here," he said, smiling at Amal behind her and leaving.

"I think he likes you," Taylor said.

"Ha-ha," Amal laughed flatly, the three light bags on her back. "Can the horses even carry all this?"

"They should," Taylor said. "The clothes are easy enough, we are only going to take enough food and water until we reach Funke."

"Okay." Amal nodded. "Shall we go then?"

"Lets."

Taylor put on her mask before leaving the castle, still a bit weirded out by the lack of lenses and glasses she needed to wear. Moses stood there with two horses, supplies strapped to them.

"Thank you," Taylor said, mounting the horse. Moses helped Amal up hers, the bags slung over their backs instead of attaching them to the horses. "Good luck."

Moses bowed as they left.

The people stood in lines, the streets wide open, as they rode through, waving and saying goodbye. Word must have gotten around about them leaving, and the people didn't want to miss it.

The uncomfortable feeling of being on a horse was forgotten when she used her bugs to distract herself.

Hours later, when the sun went down, they came to a halt. There wasn't a lot of time to talk on the horses, especially when traveling quickly. For once, Taylor enjoyed a bit of silence.

When they were resting near the river, sitting down with the horses bound on a tree and setting up a small camp, Taylor took off her mask and laid down on the floor.

"I really don't like horses," she said.

"You said that you used something different, right?"

"Yeah." Taylor nodded. "Cars. Much more comfortable, much faster too."

"Your home sounds like a great place." Amal drew her knees up to her face as she sat down next to Taylor.

"It has its faults," Taylor explained. "But it's home. I miss my friends, my father."

"Say," Amal started, but stopped when Taylor's eyes moved to her. She opened her mouth slightly, attempting to say something, but all that came out were small noises.

"What is it?" Taylor asked.

"It's…" Amal put her face in between her knees. She mumbled something.

"Yes? You have to speak up." Taylor smiles at her. Amal kept her face hidden.

"What will you do when you find your friends?" Amal asked. Taylor raises an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"You're going to leave, right?" Amal said, hesitantly looking up. "Go back home to those cars, to those shampoos, with your friends and your father…"

"Ah," Taylor said. "That's… likely, yes."

"Isn't there anything to convince you to stay?" Amal asked. "Anything that would keep you here? The people would give you anything you wish for!"

"Look, Amal," Taylor began, sighing. "I like it here. I really do, but this isn't where I should be. There are people over there who need me."

"Then let me come with you," Amal said, standing up suddenly and holding a hand to her chest. "I shan't disappoint you."

"Amal, please," Taylor said. "This is your home, you shouldn't throw away everything you know just for me."

"You are everything I know," Amal said. "I read and read, I prayed and learned all there is in the hopes of meeting you, and you are everything I expected, and so much more…"

"That's not who I am, though." Taylor shook her head. "But you won't believe me. For you, I'm a god, but I'm not someone for religion."

"We already talked about that, didn't we? Cultural differences, you might call each other differently…"

"It's just not realistic," she said. "Four-hundred years. I don't think I traveled that far into the future, or if your history books are lacking important information, but I'm human. I've always been, I will grow old, I will die."

Amal looked down, her face back in between her knees as she avoided eye contact.

"I don't care," she said. "For me, you are the greatest. You are a god. It's true what they say, gods are selfish."

"Maybe." Taylor shrugged. "But I never asked for anyone to treat me differently, people did on their own."

"You are just going to leave me alone." Amal's voice was a bit squeaky.

Taylor wasn't sure what to say as she looked at Amal, who proceed to quietly shake. She had avoided thinking about the topic for a rather long time. There were also the alternatives- what if they ended up like the Travelers, without a way home? The only way would be to hope that Labyrinth and Scrub were here too, and for all she knew she was alone...

The alternative to saying something that would just make the situation worse was to say nothing.

So Taylor just laid there until the next morning.

"Who approaches the gates of Funke?" a man on the top of the walls shouted. A large four-pointed star at the gates, with two smaller ones in the upper right and lower left corner, stood out the most. A symbol she saw branded on the armor as well.

Amal moved up with the horse.

"The merciful spirit Skitter, arriving from Elamia to proceed her pilgrimage towards Pavilion."

The gates couldn't have opened quicker when Taylor began swirling a few bugs around her to give back up Amal's words. The city reminded her of Friede, houses out of cut stone mostly, with large towers around it. Instead of an idol, though, the statue in the middle of the city was a three dimensional version of the symbol on the gates.

The people stared as they rode further into the city, some bowing, some waving.

"The symbol is in honor to Iblis," Amal explained. She didn't seem to take what happened a few days ago too hard anymore, and instead took the time she had with Taylor as more enjoyable.

"We need to find a place to sleep and resupply," Taylor said. I will look for the latter, can you try not to be attacked by people in the next inn?"

Amal went a bit red and stepped off her horse. "I'll try."

A man, maybe as old as Amram and with a beard that reached to his chest, stepped up after Amal left to find a place to stay. He bowed slightly, using his cane to right himself up again and looked up to her. She stepped off the horse.

"Welcome to Funke," the man says. "I am the eldest of the city, benevolent Skitter, and extend an invitation to you. The elders of Funke would like to have a word."

"About?"

"What lies ahead," the man said.

"That's not very forthcoming."

The man smiled. "We only have a few pleasures as we grow old, Goddess."

Taylor grinned despite herself.

"Okay then. Let's wait until my companion comes back."

An hour later they were seated in one of the larger homes, with a lot of old people sitting around the table with them.

"Why did I even make an effort to look for a place?"

"Don't worry, I didn't expect anyone to invite us."

"You should, that's what always happens, remember?"

"Point."

"Welcome," the old man from before said. The other people repeated after him. "We are gathered here today to talk about the future, and what lies ahead. We have heard of your deeds great spirit, but we are worried."

"About what?" Taylor asked.

"About the princes," he said. "Prince Moses and Prince Aaron are as different as day and night, and we know that you know both of them as well as we do."

"So what?" Taylor put an arm on the table, leaning on it. "It's not my concern, is it?"

"It might become such," he said. "You know the legends of course, you must, don't you?"

"I'm not really sure what people say about us around here." Taylor shrugged.

"Then let me explain," the old man sighed. Amal was staring at him, very attentive. "We will be honest… we do not trust Prince Aaron. He is hot-headed, aggressive and generally disliked by the people of the kingdom, and he was at the library here just recently to check up on a certain book, a legend, nothing more, but the content…"

"Get to the point, please," Taylor said. Better he finishes before he keels over.

"In the old legend, it is stated, that he whose hand laid a god to rest, shall receive their power and become a god."

Amal gasped, while Taylor crossed her arms and leaned back. People killing capes to get powers? Nah.

"Really? Is that the exact wording?" Taylor asked. The man shook his head.

"I sense you are not familiar with the writings of human hands, Viri the Savant has gathered all the legends before he ascended," the man said. She still didn't learn his name. "The exact words are 'You who enters the Gods' domain and spill the blood of the deities shall be granted their power, but learn that you deserve none of it, and die out of shame."

"Goddess, please," Amal said, tapping her on the arm. "This is serious, it's not something we can ignore!"

"So you think he might try to kill me?" Taylor asked. "That's a very serious accusation for the prince, isn't it?"

"It is highly likely, indeed," the man nodded, and the others around him began to chatter. "And you might be right, but we are not so gullible as to believe that monarchs are infallible."

The crowd on the table became louder, and Taylor could see worry on each of their faces.

"It'd be really hard to sneak up on me, though, you know?" she tried. "And I don't really have the feeling that he would try to kill me, it's not going to give him powers anyway."

"Are you not worried that he might get the drop on you?" Amal asked. Taylor could hear her approach that point again, from three nights ago, when her voice started to be a bit higher.

"Like I said, hard to sneak up on me, and he's still in Elamia while we are going to Pavilion."

"Then let me offer you something to protect you, at least," the man said, standing up.

"I'm not taking another sword," Taylor said, indicating to the red sheath that she left near the wall, the sword grip sticking out.

"It's this," he said, bringing out a small vial. "An antidote for all the poisons that are, brewed under the sight of Iblis, made from the best healers of the kingdom."

"And what if that is poisoned?" Amal asked, paranoid. The man shrugged, opening the vial and just drank a sip. That might actually be helpful if it did what he said. She took the vial from him.

"Thank you," Taylor said.

"A man who approaches with no sword in his hands has two hidden behind his back," the man said as servants came in and brought food. "And while Aaron is not someone we trust, he is not someone who would foolishly jump into battle.

Taylor shrugged again. "I'm still not convinced, but I will keep that in mind."


	11. Tick-Tock Gun-Ho

" _She held something in her hands, and it made noises, loud and threatening, holes appearing between our feet as a warning. The boy next to her, though… his presence was something else. - Victor of Caest._

* * *

Miss Militia saw it.

She remembered it.

The portal shifted the moment the Travelers were through. It stirred, and Alexandria shouted something incomprehensible.

The gap widened, and a hand, as large as the Echidna that was burned just minutes before, grasped Skitter and pulled her in. It didn't seem to have done so randomly, instead waiting for just the right moment.

The chaos followed right after. The portal stretched and expanded, starting to pull others in. Some grabbed each other, trying to escape, some didn't, and many fell through. She didn't know how many, because she was the first to end up in the darkness, her hand grasping the first thing she could, another person.

Miss Militia shuddered. She could recall every detail - chains straining in between thin but still large fingers to hold the arm back, to stop it. Even as she was falling through the darkness, memories flickering, vanishing and appearing again and falling forever, she felt someone.

Soon afterwards, she was tumbling through the air and prepared herself for a rough landing. As she felt the ground, she rolled and moved away from the hand that grasped her. She heard someone gasp for breath, barely audible despite being closeby. Turning around, she saw Clockblocker holding a hand towards her, trying to say something.

She rushed to his side and removed his mask. His eyes were unfocused, not reacting to any movements and just staring ahead. She followed his gaze upwards.

There were stars and the moon, but the constellations didn't fit with anything she had memorized. Strange.

He was coughing, gasping for breath, but before she could help him, his movements stopped and he closed his eyes, going limp.

"Clockblocker," she said, looking around. Nobody nearby, not as far as she could see. Looking down again, she slapped his cheek slightly. "Clockblocker. Stay awake." If he actually fell asleep now, it might be dangerous. If he had a concussion, he might not wake up.

She didn't see any obvious wounds that could have done this. She rolled him to the side, and there it was - a part of his costume, broken and rammed into his back, between the ribs. She couldn't treat this here. She doubted anyone in Brockton Bay but a surgeon could remove it.

"Shit!" She became desperate, trying to remember anything she could about injuries like this - inflicting them was so much easier than fixing them, dammit. She would go take lessons on emergency surgery as soon as she was home - it wouldn't be hard picking it up with her memory, but right now, she needed to find a way to keep him alive. He coughed again, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth, his eyes glazed over. "Come on, Dennis, what am I going to tell your parents?"

Rustling. She heard someone walk through the bushes, not far away - but bushes were all she could see around her, interspersed with high grass and sparse trees. Her power leapt to her hand in the shape of a small handgun, and she stretched it out to aim in the general direction of the noises.

Men stepped out of the shadows, their features unclear under the poor light of the night. They were holding swords that glinted in the moonlight.

"Halt!" the man shouted through the night. "Intruder upon these hallowed grounds, state your na-"

She fired, first into the air, and then towards their feet, kicking up dirt as the men jumped backwards.

"I can shoot you from here within seconds of each other," she said. "Put the weapons away!"

"I do not take commands from trespassers!" the man who appeared first said, heat in his voice. She couldn't see what exactly he was wearing at the distance, but the sword was clearly visible. "You will be execute-"

She shot next to his foot, making him jump back and stumble. Clockblocker was still heaving, but alive. She had to hurry.

"Take her down!"

Clockblocker took a deep breath, gasping heavily and convulsing before his eyes fluttered open.

The world seemed to shake, and it took a few minutes before she finally realized that it was her body that was vibrating. She glanced back to Clockblocker, the Ward lying on the ground with blood pooled under him, breathing steadily again. The armor was repaired again, and the wound closed.

After a second, the vibrations stopped, and all the men, who had gone incredibly still, fell over, their swords falling out of their hands.. She lowered her gun slightly as the men scrambled back.

"A-a spirit!" the leader shouted, scrambling around and smashing his head into the dirt. "O great sp-spirit, mer-merciful one and… and, Percival! The prayers!"

"I don't know them!"

"You filthy heathen-"

"You fucking hypocrite-"

"Alright, shut up," Miss Militia said, helping Clockblocker up. Still a bit dizzy, the young man needed a while to regain his equilibrium, and stared up to her.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Seems like you healed yourself, somehow," she explained.

"That… how?" he asked, looking at the blood on the floor and wiping his mouth. "Wait, my mask…"

He took it from her hands and pulled it over his face, the men still groveling on the ground.

"We're surrounded," she muttered. "We could take them, but I don't want to kill anyone, especially when we don't know where we are. They speak English, though."

"Sounded like another language to me when I was lying on the ground." He shrugged. "Must've been the bloodloss, god, my head, ugh."

"We can look for some painkillers when we are not in danger."

"Alright," he said, looking over to the men, all serious business. "They aren't holding their weapons anymore."

"It could be a ruse. They didn't seem afraid of my weapon." Or it could be a side-effect of the earthquake, she thought.

She nodded to him, moving forward slightly and he put a hand on her shoulder. Not the first time this strategy had to be used, not exactly one of his favorites, though. They moved step by step towards the men, and if she couldn't take care of them with her now created assault rifle, he could freeze them long enough to block attacks and move her out of the way due to his consciousness remaining when he froze his armor.

But the men didn't move, their weapons remained on the ground, and nobody looked like they were going to scramble for them. Good enough. She stood in front of the leader, her gun conspicuously pointed away from him.

"Where are we?"

"Near the rainy fields," he said. "Fesal's holy grounds near the Ravenheights, our city is not far from here."

"Fesal?" she said, the familiar word coming over her lips with a bitter taste. "Are we in the Middle East, then?"

"Middle East?" he asked. "We are in the north of the Islands."

"What Islands?"

The men started to mutter among themselves, incredulous whispers. She didn't have the patience to wait out their debate.

"Does the word 'America' mean anything to you?" she asked. The men immediately shook their heads. "Europe? Asia?"

More shaking.

"Shit."

"What is it?" Clockblocker asked.

"Tattletale managed to fuck everything up worse than I expected," she said. "We got dropped in some other world."

"What?! How are we supposed to get home?"

"We find her and get her to fix this."

"Good luck finding her then," he muttered. "What should we do now?"

"Praised gods, legendary spirits," the leader said. "Come to our city, we shall welcome you with a feast."

"Can we trust them?" Clockblocker asked.

"No," she said. "But we can take them. Maybe see if they have a map, and we don't have any other way of acquiring food."

"Alright," he sighed, still not letting go of her shoulder.

"We accept your offer, but don't try anything funny," she said. "We are armed."

They glanced at the rifle in her hands, confusion evident on their faces, but didn't say much more. The men led them through the moor and trees, which ended up with them near a city, large but… old.

"Open!" the leader shouted at the gates. "The spirits have descended!"

"Are you drunk again, Victor?" the man at the gates asked, looking to the other men. They looked at him and nodded towards Miss Militia and Clockblocker. "Wa-wait, really? You're not kidding?"

Miss Militia sighed, turning the rifle into a knife and putting it into a sheath on her hip. The man's eyes widened and immediately turned to open the gates. The torches weren't very helpful in seeing much further than around the gates, and the inner parts of the city seemed completely dark. She walked forward with Clockblocker right behind her, waiting for the men to enter before she did. A bell was rung and lights left and right were slowly turning on, candles being lit.

Everything about the city screamed medieval. Maybe even older. Some buildings from clay, some from wood, some from stone. The gates had a large shield with two fists crossed over it hanging behind them, visible as they opened.

She could see them.

And while she was on edge, the people who stepped out, tired and looking as confused as she was feeling, didn't seem very threatening. Their clothes, compared to the armor of the men, were simple, longer robes out of cloth or shirts held with small threads instead of buttons.

The leader, Victor, she reminded herself, stepped forward and pointed towards them again before raising his hands.

"The spirits have descended!" Victor shouted. "And they bring proof of their powers!"

Miss Militia was pretty sure that whatever crazy kind of religion was going on here, they thought people with powers were some kind of deities. Not bad for grabbing attention, they might be able to find Tattletale by finding her trail of destruction. Besides Clockblocker's powers, whatever voodoo was working on them right now, she had the only power here and her's was flashy enough.

Pulling out the knife, she turned the energy into the shape of a larger cannon, something that should fit into the setting. They didn't seem to recognize the weapon—their confusion apparent on their faces under the orange tinted light of the fire—but her proof of powers was enough.

The entire crowd bowed down.

"This feels awkward," Clockblocker said.

"Tell me about it," she said. "Be careful when choosing your food, try to take whatever someone else took first, alright?"

"Okay," he said, and she could hear the tiredness in his voice. Hopefully not hungry enough to get himself poisoned.

Miss Militia was sitting outside of the room they were given after the feast. An inn where they could stay until better accommodations could be made, they'd said. She sat there, staring at the wall, thinking.

This entire situation was like out of a dream, but when capes are involved, nothing is impossible. It was awkward enough, even after repeatedly telling them that they weren't gods, they didn't want to listen. So she just let them, ignoring them. If they tried anything, she would be ready.

At least one of the advantages of being able to ignore sleep.

Clockblocker's powers had changed. After testing them a bit, it seemed like he could 'push' them. The effect seemed to be different too. Things right next to him were unaffected, but things at a greater distance got frozen.

There was another possibility, of course. A second trigger, and while it was a possibility she had considered, it was also very unlikely. Second triggers, as far as she knew, mirrored the original trigger event. Cape involvement made it easier, though, and the large hand...

Narwhal was a prime example of how dangerous a second trigger might end up being. Grue was another. The PRT was not very successful, but that didn't mean they were stupid.

Perhaps. Or maybe powers just worked differently here. As far as she knew, Aleph capes were few and rather weak - so maybe here it was the opposite? Her powers hadn't changed though. The theories she had were discarded as quickly as she had them.

A shiver went down her spine as she thought back to the incident with the portal. Whatever had pulled them in had arms as big as the Echidna itself - how big then must its body be?

Whatever ripped the portal apart and pulled them in must have been humongous, and the body was likely on this side. Whatever it was, she would rather avoid it. Leviathan was already a horrible experience.

The map she had received was thrown over the wall in front of her, a bit of time to waste. The kingdom in the south seemed to be the best spot to go to be as central as possible - the mountains were the end of the northern part of the map.

But what interested her was the theocracy on the western islands. If she could get there, maybe she could find out about the 'spirits' and where to find some others. The people of the city were mostly of the opinion that the spirits or gods or whatever were gone, leaving humanity alone.

The man suggested visiting the king of Fesal, make him send messengers all around, but she didn't exactly want to be found, she wanted to find Tattletale, preferably before Tattletale could hear they are there too.

Because if Miss Militia tried to find Tattletale on some god-forsaken world, and Tattletale knew she was looking for her? That would be bad, Miss Militia could look for years and still not find the villain.

And that was just the on the hope that Tattletale hadn't found a way home already and left without them. Being stranded didn't sound very nice - and she understood the Travelers a bit better now.

Putting the map back into her pocket after folding it, she sighed.

All she had to do was wait.


	12. The Waters to the West

" _Nvyum, Skitter, imbviri amhrum. Hiye trymhum, prim."_ \- ?

* * *

The journey through the Khalil was quick. They only stopped for food, drink, and rest, and Taylor refused to meet any of the royal families without news of her friends, and ended up ignoring the capital altogether.

At the shores, and on the ship, they met the captain Hamoud, who would sail the ship to Pavilion for them.

"I have heard so much about Pavilion!" Amal gushed. "The place of the most faithful! I've dreamed of going there since I was a child-"

"It's full of temples, you said," Taylor said. "I don't think we are going to visit all of them. We'll just try to learn a bit more about all this, and maybe find a lead to my friends."

"Everything should be fine as long nobody lands in the lands of the heathens," Amal said. "Massad might feel threatened by the spirits and end up rallying forces."

"That sounds kind of over the top," Taylor sighed. "So we should avoid going there too?"

"Unless the king-elect or queen-elect are reasonable, yes."

"You never told me you understood that much about the politics around here." Taylor smiled. Amal went slightly red.

"I didn't just study the spirits, milady."

"We might be able to use that. The month has been rather rough, with Aaron and Moses fighting too…"

"Don't let them hear," Amal whispered, glancing at the sailors. "Domestic disputes should stay as such, as should the king's degrading health."

"Alright," Taylor said. "I'm sorry. The people are really attached to their leaders around here, it seems."

"Are you not?" Amal asked. "I remember you telling me about your comrades, but… what about the gods?"

Taylor sighed, and shook her head slightly. "We had elected officials, people who led the countries, kind of."

"Like in Massad then? A republic?"

"United States," Taylor said. "And the people with powers were taken care of by the PRT."

"The team that you fought?"

"Well, it's more like a big organization," Taylor explained. "They were the heroes, we were the villains."

"You being a villain?" Amal grinned. "I don't believe it."

"With all I would have to fill you in on, I could write a book," Taylor sighed. "I'm not a person who spills every secret, but I trust you, you know that."

"I'm glad," Amal said, looking positively elated and happy. "But why were you the villain? Has it to do with the masks?"

"Not everyone had powers," she said. "Like my father. If anyone knew who I was, they might have attacked him. I wanted to be a hero and ended up joining with the people who'd become my friends later on… one thing led to the other, I wasn't always _nice_."

"I believe in you," Amal said. "No matter what, if you stand against the law, then the law in your world must be wrong."

Taylor chuckled. "Maybe. It felt like that sometimes."

Taylor glanced at the island behind her, the ship swiftly moving away from it and saw men and women bowing. She grimaced, and glanced back towards Amal, and then the ocean.

"This is still more comfortable than horse travel," she said.

"I don't understand what you have against it, I like horses," Amal said.

"Well, I had this flying insect, Atlas, big enough to give me some mobility in that regard. It's not like I can just grow wings and move everywhere."

"That would be incredible, though!" Amal said, glancing at her shoulders. "Just huge wings and we could go everywhere without waiting on anyone or anything!"

"You think I could carry you and our supplies?"

Amal glanced away. "I've put on some weight, haven't I? I was afraid someone would mention it…"

"Uh…" Taylor said. "No?"

"No need to lie." Amal crossed her arms. "The lavish feasts we've visited since you arrived have done enough, why are you still so fit?"

"I'm not sure?" Taylor tried. She hadn't gone jogging every morning, and she hadn't been in fights that often, but despite that, she didn't feel any different now than she did one and a half months ago when she had arrived and healed up.

The implications were worrying, now that she thought about it. This might fall back to the theory she had at the start - maybe, just maybe, this was just some kind of Tinker-tech world.

Maybe someone had gotten to her already, and the fact that her powers seemed to have changed here meant that it was all just some kind of a simulation, a trick someone was playing on her.

Or maybe she had already been poisoned and was in some kind of coma dream.

"Milady?" Amal asked, snapping her out of the thoughts.

"I'm okay," Taylor said, sighing. "I'm okay. I'm… just worried."

"About what?"

"Not finding my friends," Taylor lied. "Or maybe finding someone else. We weren't the only ones who were fighting there."

"Like the PRD?"

"PRT, yes." Taylor nodded. The sailors were pretending not to listen to their conversation, but she could feel their heads turn here and there with the bugs she placed on them. "It's not like we could have prepared for landing here."

"I'm sure we will find them," Amal said, her voice rather small. "And… and if not…"

"It's alright," Taylor said. "I know, and I appreciate that."

Amal glanced to the left, avoiding Taylor's gaze. Taylor glanced towards the islands again. The journey would take two or three days.

* * *

Taylor was dreaming.

It wasn't a pleasant dream. She hadn't had many pleasant dreams since she had come here.

She was glancing at herself through the eyes of thousands of insects, seeing herself twisting and turning in her sleep. The comfortable costume was not an optimal sleeping wear, but it had to do.

She felt dizzy. The strange optic gave her problems and she tried to get herself awake, but it didn't work. The swarm moved as she wanted it, though, and she moved to her own sleeping form and made one of them bite. She woke up.

She. The stranger in the bed.

Taylor glanced down, up, floated. The swarm was under her control… maybe this was still a dream.

The stranger in the bed screamed in her voice as she woke up, slapping away the insects and moving to the door, heaving and sweating. Moments later, someone knocked on the door, and the stranger opened it. It was Amal, saying something, incomprehensible to her ears.

The stranger answered in the same language.

Taylor moved the swarm again, or she tried. The stranger had a firm grasp on it. She couldn't control the swarm anymore, and felt her consciousness slipping away. Cold lines drew around her body and pulled her back. Chains.

Chains.

Everywhere she looked - black and white, holding her arms and legs, keeping her away from her body.

She tried to scream, but the bugs didn't even buzz. She tried to flail, but the stranger controlled the swarm…

She woke up.

Screaming, crying, her throat sore. She felt a certain sense of dread when she couldn't feel the swarm she had taken onto the ship, before even that feeling returned. The uncomfortable bed was exited in the fastest way possible, rolling out of it, hitting her head to the floor.

She frantically sent the bugs around, surveying the room, looking around. Her head hurt, but that wasn't important, the pain was forgotten quickly. She pressed herself away from the floor, trying to stand but failing, and sat down at the base of the bed instead.

Her breathing slowed slightly as she didn't find a threat, and Amal was already standing in front of the door, about to knock.

"Come in," she said, drawing her knees up and holding her head against her legs, trying to regain her bearings.

"Are you alright?" Amal asked. "Everyone heard you screaming, and we thought…"

"No, it's…." Taylor swallowed, clenching her eyes shut. "A nightmare. Nothing more. Must be the small rooms around here, I don't like being confined."

"I understand," Amal said, sighing. Her shoulders lowering slightly. She blinked the tiredness out of her eyes and rubbed her face. "It's nearly morning anyway, we should arrive today."

"That's good," Taylor said. "It's ironic, I grew up near the sea, but I never really liked it, ugh…"

"What is it?"

"I'm feeling rather sick," Taylor said, using the bed to right herself up and stand. "Let's… get to some fresh air, maybe that will help."

"Of course." Amal stepped forward, helping Taylor walk down the halls and up the stairs of the rather large ship. The wooden construct wasn't nearly as impressive as the ships in her world, but it was still a fine thing. The Elamian symbol proudly displayed on the sails.

Due to the time of day, the sun not quite visible but the soft blue of daytime coming, there wasn't much besides the ship she could see. The captain was already awake, standing nearby as they came up.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Taylor glanced to Amal, who was still helping her, and nodded, slowly removing herself from the girl.

"Kind of," Taylor said. "Maybe it's just the rocking back and forth."

"Ahaha, even the mighty spirits aren't save from seasickness," the man laughed, and Amal stepped up to him immediately, about to say something.

"Maybe," Taylor grinned. "I'm famished, let's get something to eat first, Amal."

"Alright," Amal said, glancing back at the man while following Taylor.

* * *

Hours later, they arrived. Taylor and Amal stepped up from the interior of the ship again and were greeted by thousands of faces in the haven, dressed in the same kind of colors of white and red.

Taylor stepped off the ship first, helping Amal make a small jump over the ledge and arrived in the middle of the crowd, as they started to part.

"Welcome!" the captain shouted, standing on the ship right behind them. "To Vermillion Haven!"

The crowd was silent, while Taylor and Amal looked at him.

"This sounded a lot better in my head," the captain admitted. "I might not see you again, our journey ends here, it was an honor, Spirit Skitter."

"Thanks for the trip," Taylor said, nodding to him. Amal did the same, as did all the people in the robes. Taylor turned to Amal and whispered. "This is not gonna be enjoyable."

Amal's gaze went over the crowd, and she took a step forward. The crowd immediately bowed down and one of the men in the front began to speak. He had a long beard and tanned skin.

"Welcome, High Priestess, to Vermillion, Haven of faithful travelers," the man said. "We have heard of you, and heard of your deeds, and thank you from the depths of our hearts for bringing the spirits to Pavilion."

"That wasn't me," Amal said, her voice shaking. "She wanted to come here herself…"

Taylor sighed, deciding to help her out despite the obvious consequences, and stepped up.

"Hi."

"HAIL SKITTER!"

Taylor was holding her head afterwards, the loud voices bringing headache and annoyance.

"Okay, please, no shouting," Taylor said. "We need to get to the capital, but we'd like to rest first."

The capital was protected well, and despite being built near water, great care was taken to make sure ships could not arrive there. Amal said that ships were the least effective weapons, and Taylor nodded. Without gunpowder, getting through walls would be hard on a ship.

"Let us give her a feast!" the man says. "Come, goddess Skitter, come to the temple."

The crowd began to cheer and it took Taylor all of her self-control not to bash her head against the ground and be done with it. Amal followed after her as she followed the man. Meanwhile, her bugs were surveying the area.

Bugs moved left and right, through houses and over them - the temple was visible to her in the distance, but her bugs had already searched every nook and cranny. The city that was supposed to be nothing more than a haven was as impressive as Friede, even if it was wider than it was high, less 'high' and more 'wide' with the buildings stretching long into the horizontal.

Taylor tried to ignore the whispers she could hear everywhere and arrived at the temple after a bit of a march, stepping into the furnished halls with paintings of the same priests left and right. He reminded her of Eshmun, but less attractive. Instead, he had the kind of professional look to him that would fit if he was wearing a modern suit.

"The first priest, Elamia," Amal whispered. "Eshmun's brother."

"That naming scheme is going to be annoying," Taylor said. They were led to a large hall with a huge table, statues of Eshmun and Elamia in the corners. The table had all kinds of dishes on it, some she has been more than familiar with from her stay in the castle, others that seemed kind of new.

Breakfast already forgotten, Taylor felt incredibly hungry as she looked at what would be her lunch and sat down with Amal next to her. Dozens of priests sat with them, one of the chairs remained empty.

Taylor began to remove her mask, any worry about her identity has been laid to rest a time ago already.

A small cough alerted her to something.

Taylor glanced at the chair that was empty before. Still empty. Shaking her head, she grabbed a spoon. The priests began to speak a prayer with her name in it. Amal actually followed suit.

Another cough, the prayer was interrupted.

Taylor glanced at the chair again. She was sure it was coming from there. Shaking her head again, she slowly brought the spoon to the soup that Amal put into a bowl in front of her… when did she fill that bowl?

"Milady?" Amal asked.

Taylor heard giggling, the chair fell over and she stood up, walking around the table and glanced down. Imp, alive and well, was sitting there with her mask on the side of her face, and laughing her ass off.

"She called you milady!" Imp shouted between her giggles. "Ahahaha, the fuck have you been doing all the time? You got a god complex down or something?"

Taylor shook her head and grabbed the girl, helping her up and hugging her. She couldn't speak, and Imp was just laughing harder.

"I... " Taylor began. Imp's laughs became small hiccups. "I'm so glad."

"Hey, hey Skitter, what the hell," Aisha said. "You know I'm not like that, that's a really strange place to start something like this, you know?"

Taylor didn't mind her comments this time, the priests didn't say anything.

"I thought all of you were dead," Taylor said, her voice cracking.

"It's okay," Aisha said, the laughter gone completely. "Hey, it's alright, come on…"

Taylor stepped away from the girl, glancing back at Amal, who was looking at the scene with a red face and glistering eyes.

"So, hey, Imp, this is Amal," Taylor introduced. "Amal, this is Imp, one of my friends, she also has powers."

"HAIL IMP!" the priests and priestesses shouted.

"Geez, what the fuck," Aisha held her ears. "If I hadn't been here for like two months, I'd blame the whole cult thing on you."

"This isn't my fault," Taylor sighed. "But at least I'm not the only one. Do you know about the others?"

"I heard whispers that someone who fit Regent's description was in Massad, but I heard you were arriving too, so…"

"So we should go to Massad?"

"Not now." Imp shook her head. "He might also have heard of us, and we might miss each other. How about we enjoy the food first? First time I'm actually visible at the table."

Taylor chuckled, wiping her eyes. "Alright."

"Hey, Skitter?" Aisha said. "I'm glad you're alive, too."


	13. The Imp and the Faithful

[i]"She was most peculiar. Two faces, one grim and one human, and her entire being was filled with joy and laughter. A spirit of mischief, we believe her to be, but sadly, she didn't stay long enough for us to ask."[/i] Tristan of the Vermillion Haven Temple.

* * *

Amal considered herself the most faithful of all of Skitter's followers. The young goddess and spirit had become the focus of all attention in Elamia since her arrival, and any devout person would feel honored to be in her presence.

But she wasn't blind. She could see that not everything was alright. Skitter had been worried that she wouldn't meet her friends again, at least as much as Amal herself worried about what would happen [i]if[/i] she found them.

Even seated next to her, Amal knew that Skitter's attention was fully on the spirit Imp who was now seated on her left side. The dark-skinned girl seemed to never tire of smiling, strangely happy and nonchalant at the same time. The priests and priestesses listened while seated on the white marble table in the middle of the temple halls. The statues of Eshmun and Elamia watched over them as the spirit Imp, as Skitter had named her, shrugged.

Shrugs were the most Skitter got as a response while the spirit Imp enjoyed her food. What exactly her powers were, Amal didn't know, but she deducted it was some kind of invisibility from the previous conversation.

"Besides Regent, you haven't heard of anyone else?" Skitter asked. Imp swallowed, her mouth too full, before answering.

"I didn't really get around, and I didn't want to take any chances. Shit's strange here."

"Strange?" Skitter asked.

"Yeah, like, when I use my power, it's like everyone is speaking another language, even you," Imp said. Skitter froze for a moment, and Amal could see her goddess' brow furrowing. Skitter turned to the food with a grimace.

"Nyvum..." Skitter muttered. "I had a strange dream too, I can barely remember it. Say, can we talk in private for a bit?"

Amal felt her heart sink slightly when Imp nodded and both of them stepped away from the table. Skitter's robes reflected the sunlight that came through the window, giving them a strange shine, while Imp's mask on the back of her head seemed to stare directly at them. Amal moved to stand up, but Skitter looked at her and shook her head slightly.

Amal settled down again.

She was the most devout. The high priestess. Skitter herself had said that she was the most trusted among mortals.. Amal was [i]special[/i] in the eyes of a spirit.

But she could not match this. She could never be a spirit like her. She couldn't stand by her side, not like this. Imp could. And despite knowing how irrational it seemed, how childish and how needy it was, she was jealous of Imp.

The small fire near the wall that was set there to keep the interior of the dining hall warm crackled slightly, and Amal lost herself in the yellow and orange flame while she waited for Skitter to return.

###

Taylor shook her head, clearing her thoughts as she and Imp moved down the decorated halls and into a room where she could be sure of their privacy.

Imp also stopped smiling, her face a bit more serious.

"Aisha," she whispered, making sure nobody was nearby. The insects crawled along the walls and behind statues and wall decorations, giving her the knowledge about any nook and cranny of the temple. "I have a bad feeling. About this place, about the priests."

"It's... not bad," Aisha said. "Around here, I mean, it seems pretty fun."

"I admit, it's not the worst place we could have landed in, but it's not our home. Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk about."

"You're worried," Aisha said. "I get that, I really do, but I'm sure that bro is alright."

"That's not it either!" Taylor said, a bit too quickly. "I've had strange dreams, and there's something ridiculous going on with my body. I healed much faster after fighting some cape and-"

"You fought a cape!?" Aisha interrupted. "Was it someone we knew?"

"No, it was some kind of mole-man, like a case, and- that's not even the important part, listen, I think... I don't think this place is real. I think we're trapped." Taylor said.

"You mean this is some kind of crazy Matrix world?"

Taylor stared at her for a moment.

"Never watched it? One of the more popular Aleph movies." Aisha grinned. Taylor's grimace took the humour out of the situation. "Okay, so this... is not real, so what?"

"Your power," Taylor said. "Regent's power stops working when you use it, nobody even knows you exist anymore, it's great to hide from people and only cameras can pick you up."

"So what?"

"It's the only reason I'm sure that you're real," Taylor said, chewing on her lower lip. "But this world, it's so strange. I healed faster, everyone is too friendly, I'm... I'm not used to anything here."

"Taylor," Aisha said, putting a hand on the taller girl's shoulder. "Calm down. It'll be alright, we're safe. I imagine the others heard about you if the guy's on their knees are anything to go by."

"How do we know?" Taylor asked. "How do we know we aren't captured and drugged, or hooked up to some computer?"

"We don't," Aisha said. "That's why we need Tattletale, she'll know more. Is that what you're worried about?"

"I haven't seen you guys for so long," Taylor said, her face heating up as tears welled up in her eyes. "It's all coming up. I managed to push it out of my mind for a while, but now that I've actually found you..."

"Taylor," Aisha said. Taylor's breathing became heavier, the younger girl noticed her fellow villainess growing increasingly tense. "Taylor, are you alright?"

"I don't know," Taylor said. She began pacing slightly, moving in tandem with the bugs that crawled along the walls. She began talking again, after a long sigh. "You say I speak another language when you use your power, I remember hearing one in one of my dreams. Why can't I remember more?"

"That's how dreams work," Aisha said calmly. Taylor stumbled slightly, her pacing ending with her foot stuck under a red-tinted carpet. "Taylor?"

Taylor fell backwards, onto her ass and wiped her face, drawing her knees up to her head.

"I'm sorry, it must be the exhaustion, I woke up really early today," Taylor said, calmer. Her vision was swimming.

"It's alright." Aisha sat down next to her. "I hadn't noticed you're so down about this. These two months were over like a flash for me, because I'm used to not being noticed. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you."

Taylor nodded.

"I met a lot of people, did some things, got called a goddess more times than I'm comfortable with."

"But it still wasn't home, hm?"

"Worse," Taylor shook her head. "It started to feel like it. I'm not sure how I should feel about that."

"Must be the fresh air and the people kneeling to you," Aisha said, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's... in part, maybe," Taylor said. "The people here treat us differently, and we don't have to worry about things like the Endbringers, or the Slaughterhouse 9, or the Protectorate."

"Daaaamn boring though, I want to fight a cape too. Is that how you got this awesome sword?"

Imp was holding it, unsheathed and staring at the blade. The hilt looked much older than the steel that mde made up the rest of it.

"How did you- Aisha, give that back," Taylor said, holding her hand up.

"Why? Am I gonna cut myself?" Aisha grinned. Taylor glared at the girl. Aisha shrugged and gave her back the sword and the sheath. "But really, where did you get that one?"

"The prince gave it to me as a gift for helping him," Taylor said. "It's a long story."

"You met a [i]prince[/i]?" Aisha asked. "Like, a real prince? Face of an Adonis, crown on his head, gold in his pockets?"

"Pretty much." Taylor shrugged. "He and his brother. Saved one, threatened the other."

"Yeahhh, spill all the juicy details," Aisha said, standing up. "Bro's gonna be so jealous."

"Why should he be?"

"Ah, his girlfriend being stolen away by prince charming~" Aisha sighed. "Oh, the fairy tale this would make. The villain whose evil heart was freed by-"

Taylor slapped a hand over Aisha's mouth.

"Brian's not gonna hear your version of the story."

Aisha just grinned and licked the glove, before realizing that she was actually just licking spider silk.

###

Taylor and Aisha took their time, and most of the priests had already finished. Out of courtesy and respect, it seemed, they had remained seated on the large chairs and waited for their return. Amal was with them of course.

The young priestess stood up and bowed to them, the priests and priestesses following suit, making Taylor sigh. Aisha seemed to enjoy the attention.

"I'm not hungry," Taylor said. "And we might need to go to... the sacred city was it?"

Amal nodded. "The Spirit's Sacred City, where the eldest priest started out."

"Yeah, there," Taylor said. "And we need to send someone to Massad in case Regent is somewhere on the border."

"Imagine he met a princess," Imp said. "Regent charming the princess and-"

"Shut up!" Taylor stopped her from playing the whole story up again. "I don't think Massad has a princess."

"Party-pooper!" Imp stuck her tongue out at Taylor. Taylor decided to be the adult and ignored her.

"But blessed spirit!" One of the priests stepped out of the small crowd. His hair and beard were long and grey, his robes clinging to a weakened and thin frame. "Can we not ask you to stay for a while longer so the travelers can seek your blessing?"

"I don't bless people," Taylor said. Everyone here was even worse than in Elamia. "Never did, never will."

"Only those who stand for themselves shall receive her approval!" one of the priestesses said. The woman was younger than most of them, but still quite a bit older than Taylor. "The wisdom of the spirits is immeasurable-"

"Let's go."

Taylor grabbed Imp's arm and dragged the now laughing girl out, Amal hurrying after them.

"Hey, no, hahah, wait!" Imp said between the laughters. "I want one of those steaks before we go, you didn't even touch yours!"

"We can eat when we're there."

"But that'll take days!"

"I guess it will."

"You're evil, milady! Eviiiil."

###

Amal was sitting next to a tree, the horses that were prepared for them resting nearby while Skitter was sleeping, the exhaustion from the day setting in. The goddess was twisting and turning in her sleep, and multiple attempts to get her awake had been stopped by the buzzing of bugs.

Imp was sitting just a meter away, looking at the map that Taylor had kept from Sidon. Amal has been sitting in a rather uncomfortable silence for a while now.

"So," Imp began, looking over to her.

"Yes?" Amal asked.

"You went all the way from here..." Imp scuttled closer to Amal, showing her the map that was barely readable in the night and pointing towards Sidon. "To here, and then here?"

The path was roughly the one they followed, yes, so Amal nodded, before shaking her head slightly.

"That's the route Skitter took," Amal explained. "I joined in Heth, north from Sidon."

"What did you do before?" Imp asked. "Like, aren't your parents worried, running off with some girl?"

"My father, he," Amal felt her face heat up again, the cold night wind making her shiver. "He mistook milady for a god, at first, and offered her my hand in marriag-"

It was like a dam broke. Imp let go of the map, starting to giggle like crazy.

"Hahahah-" Imp didn't stop, while Taylor was still sleeping despite the noise. "An-and then? Hahaha, what did she say?"

"She was angry that he'd just give away his daughter, and told him she was a girl, and we talked a bit over the next days," Amal continued, trying to wrap up the story quickly.

"And then she just decided to take you with her?" Imp asked. "Why not the prince or something?"

"I might have hidden myself on a cart," Amal admitted, her face warm. "And didn't want to leave even when they discovered me."

Imp broke into giggles. The nightly chill and the uncomfortable silence were forgotten as the spirit lightened the mood with her joy. Amal's blush made her hide her face in between her knees.

Even the horses made a loud noise, a neigh that made Imp laugh harder.

"This is gold, Regent will love this!" Imp said, wiping her eyes slightly. "Oh, this is too good."

"Regent was... the second one, next to Grue, right?"

"She told you about bro and Regent?"

"She told me about all of you!" Amal smiled. "About Regent, Grue, Tattletale, the Imp and, uh, Bitch."

"Yeah, that's the Undersiders," Imp said. "I tell you, it was really strange when Skitter and bro hooked up, my power's really good for sneaking up on people."

"Hooked up?" Amal asked. "Like...?"

"You know, became a couple, and all that," Imp said. "This must be some really repressed world, huh? You should hear about that one time I walked in on them-"

Amal wasn't really listening anymore. That's a thing Skitter had left out. She and Grue, or 'bro' as Imp called him, were a couple? Of course, yes, that made sense. Only two spirits could live their lives together.

But despite Skitter's admission of trusting her, that wasn't something she could have told her? Amal felt hurt.

"So, so I got this plan, okay?" Imp said. "You totally gonna help with this, I'll make you my second best friend for that."

"Plan?" Amal whispered hoarsely.

"So yeah, when we meet bro, just introduce yourself as her girlfriend or something, and I'll mention something about the princes she left behind for you and-"

"Me and Skitter?!" Amal said, looking away from Imp's inquiring gaze. The spirit was truly honoring her name. "Impossible! Something like that would never work out. She's not interested-"

"Oh, and you are?" Imp grinned.

"I..."

Amal's eyes went to Skitter's sleeping form. Imp choked slightly before breaking out in laughter again. Amal hid her face in between her knees.

###

Taylor was dreaming.

It wasn't a pleasant dream.

She could see her mother, staring down at her. Angry. Anne-Rose was screaming in some tongues she didn't understand, while a noose tightened around Taylor's neck.

She wanted to speak, to apologize for whatever she might have done wrong, but her mouth was bound. She tried to scream, but the noose cut off any supply of air.

And like always in her dreams, she tried to flail. But her arms and legs were bound by chains.

The dream didn't stop there, though. She remembered that this was the point where she should have woken up. She was carried adrift, the chains pulling on her body and sending her into the sky. She remembered this view.

She could see them. She could see the earth that wasn't hers. She could see all life below.


	14. Interlude - The Princes of Elamia

Spirit of Nature Interlude 2 - The Princes of Elamia

* * *

Moses grimaced as he watched the young woman go, the sword strapped on her back. She and the young priestess didn't have to deal with the politics of this country, and the fact that they left this early was preferable.

He glanced at the painting of his ancestor. Eshmun's gaze was piercing, almost judging, as he walked down the crimson hall and moved to the dining hall, where his brother was pacing up and down. He ignored Aaron, walking towards the door at the end of the room and up a flight of stairs. The steps behind him announced that Aaron followed.

They reached a door, wooden and strong, with a guard stationed in front of it. He bowed to them as they entered.

Amram was lying in bed, looking fragile and ready to fall apart at the slightest touch. Moses felt a lump in his throat and swallowed heavily. The king's eyes were glazed over, and his breaths were shallow. Aaron began pacing again, a nervous gesture and way too loud in the quiet room. Despite his hardened facade, Moses knew that his brother wasn't better off than him.

"Would you stop that?" Moses muttered, glancing at his brother. The young man didn't stop, glaring at Moses and grinding his teeth together. Moses moved up to the bedside, grasping his father's hand, holding it. It was cold. "Father."

"Moses," Amram said, his eyes unfocused. "Has Spirit Skitter left?"

"Yes, father," Moses whispered. "She left to Pavilion."

"I'm glad," he said, coughing. "I'm glad, that I was alive to see when the spirits returned, to see them honor our halls with their presence. I did all I could for this kingdom and their people, and I want you to continue as you see fit."

Moses heard his brother scoff, though a glance revealed that the younger prince was just as worried, and Moses could see Aaron's knuckles go white as Aaron pressed his nails into his palms.

"Aaron, are you here?"

"Yes, father." Aaron moved up to the bedside as well, kneeling down. Moses could see him shaking.

"I can't see your face," Amram said. "But I have my family around me. If your mother could see you now… I am so sure, she would be proud… of what you have become."

"You will join her," Moses said. "And we will follow you in the years to come, and let our children rule."

"I have raised you like she would have wanted," he said. "I have continued to rule beyond my time, because you were too young."

The man drew a short breath, closing his eyes. Moses' grip on his hand tightened.

"I am glad you could call me father by the end of it." Amram smiled. "But you have to promise me not to fight."

"We would never," Moses said. "We will honor the traditions. I will rule as you did, Aaron will be the most honored priest…"

Amram's breath had gone still, and Moses let go of his hand. The prince stood up and wiped his eyes. He could hear Aaron growl.

"Walk with me," Moses said, walking out of the room. The guard outside the door was shaking slightly, and Moses could hear sobs from the man in the armor. Aaron followed him, and they ended up in a private study, away from prying ears.

"What is it?" Aaron asked.

"We cannot tell them yet," Moses answered.

"Why?"

"You know why," the older prince said. "You do not agree with me as a king, and I do not see you being a priest."

"Of course I don't," the younger prince scoffed. "You are too soft, too gullible. The way you rule would lead to our ruin."

"The way you walk is a path of war," Moses snapped back. "Reunification? Do you know how many kings have fallen attempting to do just that? The moment one raises their banner, everyone else will rise up against them!"

"But they did not have what we have!"

"What?" Moses asked. "A spirit, is that it? Do you believe that Spirit Skitter is going to work for us, walk a path of blood with you to bring back a kingdom that the world doesn't need? The people are happy!"

"The people are traitors!"

"Then strike me down!" Moses shouted, slamming his fist on a table. Papers were thrown off it and fluttered to the floor. "Kill me here, and you will be king! Kill me like our father's brother killed him-"

"I am nothing like our uncle," Aaron snapped back, shaking his head in disgust. "And implying such is an insult I cannot ignore."

"Then what? Will you go and bring war by being a priest?"

"No," Aaron said. "And I cannot leave either, because I love this country too much."

"Spit upon our father's last wish?"

"Our grandfather's last wish," Aaron corrected. "A pitiful old man-"

Moses struck, his fist meeting prince Aaron's face and sending the younger man to the ground. He scrambled to his feet immediately, glaring at his older brother. Moses' gaze was furious, stopping his brother from doing anything else. Moses pointed at a painting at the wall, of Amram and his family.

"He will be remembered," Moses said. "The wise king! Amram the Pious! If you take the throne, all you will be is Aaron the Bloodthirsty!"

"A pitiful faith for a kingdom that used to rule these islands as a whole!"

"A pitiful kingdom in comparison to the empire that rules above us!"

"Then go kneel before your emperor, I do not need the throne to make Elamia whole again," Aaron grabbed his crown, throwing it at the ground as he left. "I will reach for the power to do this myself!"

"Then let Strife take you, warmonger!" were Moses' last words to him.

###

Aaron was glaring at everything that moved as he walked out of the castle, a man moving out of the alleys to follow a step behind him.

"Are you sure this is wise?"

"No," Aaron said.

"Then why didn't you take his life?"

"Because I am not my uncle."

"You truly aren't," the man behind him said. "'The people would be too suspicious', or 'He would have expected it at this point' would be more like him. He was a smart but violent man."

"You're a shitty advisor."

"I serve the crown, it was his mistake to trust me."

"Then why do you help me?"

"Because I serve the crown, and I worry. Had you killed him, you wouldn't have lived long."

"Because I would have been a traitor to the traditions? A kinslayer? I am no longer a prince, and I do not care about the traditions.

"Despite what you say, you remain of this lineage."

"I renounce my title, all that holds me is my blood," Aaron muttered. "Go serve my brother. Serve your king."

"As you wish, my prince."

###

In the end, Moses was reduced to pacing now that his brother had left. He had honestly expected something to happen, and gave the sword to Skitter so that Aaron could not try fooling the priest.

He regretted that now. But the situation couldn't have ended differently. Aaron's crown was on the table, next to him, and it would be a great outcry when he explained that his brother would not be joining him on his pilgrimage before the coronation.

He shuddered. He would have to break the news himself. The men had been sent out with messages to gather the people. He could run some damage control by doing it personally. He could hear them arrive.

People gathered, their voices coming together and audible all the way up to the place he stood. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before stepping forward, into view of the crowd.

The faces of his subjects stared up at him, standing next to the stairs above them, near the entrance to the castle.

"Citizens of Elamia!" he began. The people cheered and he lifted his hand. They quieted down. "Today is not a day of celebration, it is a day of mourning!"

The chatter became louder again.

"My grandfather, King Amram, is dead."

The words carried over the people led to an outcry. He remembered those faces, those shouts, those cries. They were the same he had seen and heard as a child when Amram told them about Moses' father's death.

"He died peacefully, with a smile on his lips," he continued. "And left with a prayer, happy about seeing the spirits that our ancestors praised in flesh."

He could see some people crying, while others stood completely still.

"And my brother, Prince Aaron, was hit hard, and left the kingdom in search for something. The high priest of Elamia will be succeeded by his son…"

The crowd got loud again, angry. Angry and sad.

"Please."

This time they didn't become silent.

"Please," Moses began again, lowering his head to the crowd. "I know I cannot replace my father, and I know that my brother broke tradition… but let us move forward. Let me help this kingdom, in faith and in wealth, so that we can enjoy the visits of the spirits once more. Will you swear an oath to me as you did to my father?"

"All hail the king!" a voice cried out of the crowd. He recognized her, Iman, one of the spirit's followers. Her voice sent more shouts of his new title. "Yes, your majesty!"

The man smiled at her, appreciating the help. The dam broke and the crowd cheered for him. He would not wear Amram's crown until the coronation in Pavilion, however. Before that, he had too much to prepare for.


	15. Chapter 13 - The Sacred City

"Maybe it was my old age, or maybe, I feel, I had lost faith, by that point. But when the Spirits walked into our temple, and greeted me in my home, they looked human. Worn out and wary, travelers on a long road." - Izhar, High Priest of Pavilion, to his sons.

* * *

The walls and gates were not the only impressive thing that the Sacred City had to muster, Taylor realized. Vermilion was already huge, and she was able to dodge most of the population by staying inside the temple until they left. Here, however, she saw thousands of faces, staring at her.

All of them without horses,having arrived from who knows where else in the country, and all of them recognized her, going to their knees. Imp laughed. Stationed around the kingdom were knights, dressed in all kinds of armors with different emblems. She recognized the symbol of Elamia on some of them, and a few others that she couldn't place.

"Knights of all the kingdoms," Amal explained. "They are sent here to protect the temples. It's supposed to be a sign of unity."

Taylor wasn't blind, however. The men standing next to each other looked anything but united. Though some looked less hostile than others, the majority looked like they wanted to be anywhere but there.

Taylor sighed, her back feeling sore. The nights hadn't been very restful for her, so much that even Imp mentioned how she kept flailing in her sleep. She couldn't even remember her dreams that clearly, so all she could do was ignore them like usual. The horses slowly brought them closer to the gates, and the mass of people parted and bowed to them, chanting. She could hear Amal joining their prayer in whispers.

But while she heard the prayers through bugs as well, she used them to scout ahead, check for weapons that anyone could carry. The people on their pilgrim seemed less armed than the people in the kingdoms.

She tried to check how big the city was, but she couldn't. The giant gates and walls stretched far beyond of her range. Guards stationed on the wall and in towers nearby watched her approach.

"OPEN THE GATES!"

A man from the guards shouted suddenly, and a large cry accompanied the slow opening of the entrance. The city was impressive. A work of art, like something right out of a painting. Taylor shook her head, taking in the sight while Imp whistled low.

They were greeted by another group of knights, their faces hidden by helmets that gave them kind of a medieval look, compared to the armored guards she usually saw. The last time she saw some of those, it was when they were with Aaron and about to attack Friede.

"Sacred Spirit!" one of the six knights in front of her said loudly. "Let me welcome you, O blessed one, to this sacred place in honor to you and your brethren…"

"Alright," Taylor interrupted before he could continue with an obviously long and practiced speech.

"Bring me to your leaders," Imp said, waving her arms around. The tone of her voice was stilted slightly. "We come in peace."

Taylor glared at the girl, as the knights immediately turned around and began marching forwards.

"Of course, the high priest will be honored to see you!" the knight from before said.

The city was massive. The size probably not comparing to Brockton Bay, but the sheer density and amount of people: priests and pilgrims, Amal called them. The size of some of the buildings, made out of cut stone were impressive, and one of the first things that drew her attention as she walked down the streets.

Taylor glanced around, appreciating the scenery. They stepped off the horses and moved forward as the gates were closed again. Imp nearly stumbled off hers, but that was no wonder, considering the story of how she even learned to ride one.

Their destination was obviously the temple that was visible in the distance. The knights marched with steady steps in their heavy armor, while Amal and Taylor had bags slung over their backs, still filled with a bit of food that should have lasted them a day or two. Taylor took the time to look around with her bugs, finding quite a few locations like something that seemed to be a public bath, and inns for people on pilgrimage to stay in.

When they finally arrived, all they saw was another gate, engraved with the image of two men, holding a sword together. The images were a bit twisted, but she could recognize that these must be Eshmun and his brother.

One of the knights stepped up and knocked strongly. The gate swung open, much quicker than the entrance to the city and the brightly lit day was replaced by a dark hall illuminated by candles after they stepped in. Two doors to the left and the right, Taylor checked them all with the bugs. They were large and mostly empty, with identical shrines in them. And right in front of them, Imp and Amal trailing behind her, was a small room with stairs leading to the upper parts of the temple.

The knights opened the doors in front of them and yet another door a bit further, ignoring the stairs.

"The High Priest's temple," Amal muttered, excitement in her voice. "I'm actually [i]here[/i]."

"Breathe." Imp grinned at Amal. "Though this stuff looks awesome, you think they'd let me keep one of those swords on the walls?"

"No," Taylor said, still trailing after the knights. The men lined up next to the door as she walked inside, eventually reaching what looked similar to the throne room of Elamia. A man was sitting inside a less than impressive chair, younger than Amram by a decent few years from the looks of it. He stood up as he saw them approach.

"Spirit Skitter, Spirit Imp," he said, bowing. He was bald, wearing priest robes with jewelry hanging down from it, and a greying beard on his face. "Let me welcome you to the temple, I am High Priest Izhar, brother of King Amram of Elamia."

Taylor nodded her head in greeting, while Imp waved. Amal bowed to the priest.

"It's an honor," Amal said.

"Please, priestess Amal," he said. "Do not bow your head to anyone but your gods and king, you're as honored here as any other faithful."

"Thank you," Amal said, standing up. Taylor glanced at him. How did he do that? Taylor could never get her to stop that when she started going off on a tangent.

"I have heard of why you are here," Izhar continued, walking towards Taylor. "You are in search for other spirits. I have good news."

"Oh?" Taylor said, hopeful. The man's smile was disarming.

"Yes, please, follow me," he said, moving down the room and towards the stairs, nodding to the six knights. "As you might know, I am, for the most part, impartial to the politics of the kingdoms."

Taylor didn't really know that, but assumed, considering the different knights from all the kingdoms gathered around the gates.

"Elamia once owned all but the Theocracy, until the ancestors of the current kings became unhappy with how Eshmun's descendant ruled."

Taylor wasn't sure what prompted the history lesson, but she didn't interrupt him. If he had information about the others, she'd listen to everything he had to say.

"And eventually, the people became unhappy as well, and those that didn't wish to be priests went and took control of parts of the kingdoms, separating themselves and leaving Elamia smaller. It is not surprising that there have been… conflicts. Especially because it is still the Elamian line that takes the place of the high priest."

"Sounds tough," Imp said. Amal and Taylor glanced at her, but she just shrugged. "What? It does."

"Indeed, it was… tough, as you say," Izhar said. "So we swore and oath, and Pavilion is not allowed to favor one kingdom over another. The knights are as much guards here as they are a threat."

Amal drew a short breath as she heard that. Of course, that wasn't too surprising either, Taylor thought.

He led them up the stairs, towards a small office that had two more guards standing in front of them.

"All except Massad, of course, they decided that blood and legitimation of the kings didn't matter, and renounced both the monarchy and their belief," he continued. "That relationship has been… strained, so to speak."

"So…" Taylor concluded. "Even if one of the kingdoms told you that they found a spirit, you couldn't tell that to Elamia?"

"Yes." Izhar nodded. "That is to say, we are not forbidden from telling you, of course, even though the sword you carry shouldn't be in your hands, and back in Elamia."

"This old thing?" she asked, glancing at the sheath hanging on her back, slung over her shoulder next to her bag. "What's so special about it?"

The place they entered was an office, or it looked like one at least. A lot of papers and letters were sprawled over a table, and Izhar sat down on the chair next to it, gesturing towards a bunch of other chairs near the wall. Taylor grabbed one and moved it closer to him before sitting down. Imp and Amal followed suit.

"It's Eshmun's sword," he said. Amal began coughing. "And Amram must have had a good reason for giving it to you…"

"Moses gave it to me," Taylor corrected. The man's eyes widened.

"Oh," he said, his eyes downcast. "Oh."

"Is… everything alright?"

"I will explain, later, let me just…" he turned around, grabbing one of the letters on the desk and reading it. "A spirit named 'Bitch' has been sighted with two more named 'Clockblocker' and 'Miss Militia', near Khalil. They might have made their way to Massad."

Taylor smiled when she heard Bitch's name, but grimaced at the other two. This wasn't good. But if they were traveling together, it's doubtful that they were hostile right now. They might have the same idea she had, find Tattletale.

"Furthermore," he grabbed another letter. "The spirits named 'Grue', 'Tattletale' and 'Weld' have been sighted in the south."

"Whohoo!" Imp stood up, lifting her fists up. "They didn't lie to m-"

Taylor blinked, shaking her head. Imp was sitting in her chair, her arms crossed and looking as nonchalant as possible, while Amal was looking down. When it finally set in, she grinned, but…

"What about Regent?" she asked. The man pursed his lips, taking another letter.

"It seems that another spirit has been sighted in Massad, though we don't know where exactly, and what his plans are. Massad isn't very friendly, so it is possible that he might have been attacked-"

"Nah," Imp interrupted. "He's probably alright."

"Are you sure?" Taylor asked.

"Call it a gut feeling, I was right about bro too, right?" Imp smiled at her. "Don't worry too much."

"I'm the only one who seems to worry around here," Taylor muttered. "Okay, it's… is everything alright?"

The man was looking on the ground, rubbing his nose.

"I am afraid that my brother might be dead," Izhar admitted. "The sword is carried here by the crown prince before his coronation when the king is dead. If he sent you here beforehand, then perhaps…"

"Aaron and Moses seemed to be in conflict," Taylor said. "If I recall correctly, Aaron would have to take your place when Moses becomes king, right?"

"Yes, and I'm afraid that he might not keep the oath, Aaron has always been pushing for a reunification of the islands."

Taylor hated these politics. Stuff like this was at least kind of simple in Brockton Bay, even if they lived in worse conditions after Leviathan and the Slaughterhouse 9.

"But that doesn't have anything to do with you, does it?" Izhar laughed. It sounded hollow. "I shall send letters out so that your friends will know where to find you, and offer you shelter for as long as you wish to stay."

"Thank you," Taylor said, smiling. "I appreciate that."

"Everything for the spirits," the man said. "Please, keep the sword with you for now. If Moses arrives before you leave, we might learn more, and if you go back, give it to him."

"Of course," Taylor said, nodding. "I don't wish to impose, and I know that this place has a major lack of bedrooms." She checked, of course. "We will stay in an inn nearby, so you know where to find us."

"Very well," the man stood up and bowed to her, before Taylor sighed and bent down, making the man stand up again.

"I'm sorry about your brother," she said. "If there's anything I can do to help, tell me."

She wouldn't want Aaron to throw this entire place into war. She didn't want to actively mess with the politics either, but she couldn't allow him to do anything drastic, especially not when this might prevent them from finding a way home.

"Thank you, Spirit Skitter… thank you."


	16. The Truce in Between

Spirit of Nature 14 - "More and more arrived, blessing our city with their presence. I am glad to have lived until this moment. Glad indeed."

* * *

Her every step was deliberate, her head held high. It was as much confidence as it was annoyance as she stepped through the streets of the Sacred City. Taylor didn't give the people a second glance. More and more bowed down as she walked near them.

Imp was still asleep, but she couldn't find such easy rest. Considering the nightmares and the excitement of finally finding her friends, it wasn't a surprise. When the news came that spirits were arriving riding on beasts, Taylor was up already.

The problem was that this city was a lot larger than the southern quarters would indicate, and without a car, she was barely halfway through. Her range barely extended far enough to finally reach the northern gate.

Apparently someone had sighted them and rushed through the streets, shouting it at the top of their lungs. The problem with that was that every priest and pilgrim had gathered on the same path as her, making it even harder to walk through the masses. While most of them had actually gotten out of her way, others hadn't quite grasped the situation, and how she had been in a hurry. Some had even gone to their knees and started praying, blocking her way.

Taylor had her costume on, meeting the heroes without one wouldn't have been smart. It was unlikely she could hide her identity for long, but if they tried anything, Tattletale, if she could actually get them out of their predicament, wouldn't help them.

And Taylor knew that Miss Militia, compared to some other heroes, had at least a modicum of respect for the villains, and they respected her in return. If it were possible, Miss Militia would have made a great leader for the PRT.

The walls of cut stone began to blend into each other, one house looking like the next and every temple looking like the other, a different statue or inscription on it.

The crowd thickened as she nearly reached her destination.

"It's- it's the spirit Skitter!" one of them pointed at her, and the crowd bowed down.

"Let me through," she said. They scrambled out of the way, their knees scraping on the street from the clumsy attempts at bowing and moving at the same time.

Taylor stepped forward and the gate was finally in sight.

She could feel them now. Taylor was impressed, actually. The size of the walls allowed them to see Bitch and her dogs in the distance.

By the time she reached the gate and stepped out - the guards of all the kingdoms standing along the wall - she could see them herself.

They arrived on giant monstrosities indeed, each one riding another of the dogs, and even _Regent_ was with them. They weren't just four, though, they were five. Bitch, Regent, Miss Militia, Clockblocker and… Newter?

Newter of Faultline's Crew? She could see the powered dog he was sitting on had quite a lot of blankets over it so Newter wouldn't accidentally knock it over with his powers.

The dogs slowed down, and came to a halt only a few meters away. They stepped off.

"See?" Regent said, turning to Newter who was looking rather sick. "I told you it would be fun!"

"Never. Again."

Newter sat down, the giant dog next to him growling slightly, making him scramble away.

When the others approached, and the soldiers behind her began to bow deeply, Taylor simply waved.

"Hi."

Bitch gave an affirmative grunt, while Regent spread out his arms.

"Skitter! Nice change of style! Did you do something with your hair?"

"Yes," she said. He stopped slightly, actually taking a look now, and she grinned behind her mask, invisible. Miss Militia and Clockblocker kept their distance, so Taylor took the first step. "Long time no see."

She would've loved to go hug Bitch and Regent, but she knew those two weren't really 'huggable', so to speak.

"Yes," Miss Militia nodded. "Admittedly, I would have prefered to meet under different circumstances."

Clockblocker didn't say anything, choosing to stare behind her, towards the crowd that was bowing ever since she walked in.

"You got quite the crowd here," Miss Militia said, her arms crossed.

"Not mine," Skitter admitted. "I haven't been successful in stopping them."

"Prayers and the like?"

Skitter nodded. Regent actually broke out in laughter at that.

"She got prayers," Regent said, looking towards Newter. The Case 53 shot Regent a dirty look.

"You didn't?" Skitter asked, wondering just how he was so fortunate.

"No, we got prison time," Regent said.

"... how?" Skitter asked.

"An epic story," Regent said. "So we landed in this city and the people were really suspicious but actually quite cool and there was this chick, can't remember her name-"

"Maria," Newter supplied.

"Right, Maria, and she really had the hots for me," Regent continued. Clockblocker coughed, Miss Militia's eyes twitching towards Regent. "So it turns out she's actually the president's daughter there, they got a president, I don't know why, and she had this fiancé…"

"Regent," Taylor urged him on.

"So she invited him to visit her at night, her father caught them and she just barely managed to convince the judges to be lenient and give him life imprisonment instead of an execution."

Everyone stared at Newter at the sudden reveal. Regent's shoulders sagged.

"You're such a cockblock, man, I was about to get to the part where I valiantly fought of swarms of knights-"

"You fought one, and you lost," Newter corrected.

"No, I had to be the villain of this story, I _let_ him win!"

"Okay, enough," Skitter waved him off. "Let's get you inside. Imp is waiting too."

"Imp?" Miss Militia asked. "And Tattletale?"

"She's not here," Skitter confirmed. "Yet. They're on their way. Weld too, for that matter."

No need to hide information while they were stuck in this together. Miss Militia nodded, and the dogs began to shrink all together.

Well, 'dogs'. Brown wolves, apparently, who followed Bitch as well trained as any dog she had seen before.

"Come on," Skitter walked in, the crowd parting again. The rather impressive sight was ignored by Bitch and Newter, who was still nursing his stomach at the motion sickness he felt. Regent whistled low while Miss Militia and Clockblocker took in their surroundings."

Before they were even halfway towards the middle of the city, a familiar sight was there, dressed in the yellow-tinted silk that Taylor prepared for her, Amal was running towards them, shouting her name loudly.

"Goddess Skitter!" Amal's voice drowned out the mutters around them. "Why have you not awakened me to go with you?"

"I didn't want to bother you," Skitter said. "We're on our way to Izhar's temple, walk with us."

"Of course," Amal said, not hesitating to fall into step with Skitter as they continued.

"This is Amal," Skitter introduced. "Amal, these are Bitch, Regent, Clockblocker, Miss Militia and Newter."

Amal stopped for a moment before bowing to them.

"It is an honor to meet you, spirits," she said. "I am the High Priestess of Skitter, Amal of Heth."

Regent choked out laughter again.

"She has a high priestess," he muttered rather high-pitched. Newter shot him a dirty look again.

Clockblocker actually laughed too, Skitter noticed from the bugs she placed on him, but he was better at hiding it. Miss Militia sighed, almost unnoticeable.

Regent suddenly fell over, and everyone stopped to look.

"What the-"

Imp appeared, standing behind him, laughing as he stood up and dusted himself off. She jumped on him again, this time staying visible and taking him into a choke hold.

"Did'ya miss me? Come on, say you missed me," she said.

Skitter coughed, making Imp look towards her.

"Not right now, let's find some place quiet," Skitter said. Imp nodded, understanding why exactly this would be a bad place to talk.

The rest of the way was rather quiet.

* * *

They were seated in the dining room, Izhar giving them the privacy they needed. Miss Militia, Clockblocker and Newter sat to Skitter's left, while Imp, Regent, Bitch and her wolves, were to her right. Amal also sat there, suspicious looks thrown towards the wolves every few seconds.

There was a lot of food on the table, apparently prepared at the moment of the news.

Regent wasn't shy about eating, neither was Bitch. Miss Militia was a bit more hesitant, while Skitter could see Clockblocker physically struggling not to take off his mask.

Skitter sighed, gritting her teeth. She didn't actually want to do this, but considering how everyone had seen her face anyway, it wouldn't matter on the long run, and she _knew_ that Miss Militia wasn't the kind of person to rat her out.

She grabbed her mask, slowly pulling it off. Miss Militia didn't comment on it, but Clockblocker reacted quite strongly, his head snapping towards her before he looked towards Miss Militia.

"We're in this together," Skitter said. "And we need to work on helping each other."

"Do we?" Miss Militia asked. "I don't think it's unreasonable to claim that Tattletale is responsible for this."

"You're not wrong," Skitter admitted. "But fighting about this isn't going to help us get home. What we need is information, and I can't remember anything."

"I do," Miss Militia said bluntly. "It's blurry, which is new for me, but I can tell you what happened."

Skitter looked at her, surprised at the news, but didn't say anything, instead urging her to go on.

"The portal changed at the last moment and a hand came out, huge…" Miss Militia said. A pang of pain, memories resurfacing. Taylor could remember. The dream, the chains. "It grabbed you, and when it pulled you in, there was a strong wind that dragged more of us in. All of you, Newter, us, and Weld."

"Gee," Newter muttered. "Nothing but good news with capes nowadays, huh?"

"Come on, we met a _princess_ ," Regent said. "She even helped us escape!"

Newter glowered at him.

Taylor took some of the food from Clockblocker's side of the table and began to eat.

"There's nothing to worry about here," Taylor said. "We all want to get home, right? I've been here as long as you've been, and I just can't find any energy to be hostile or fight you."

Miss Militia glanced to Clockblocker, who shrugged.

"Really mellowed out, hm?" Regent teased. "But if that's what our Goddess wants~"

Taylor scowled, but didn't say a word as he also removed his mask. Imp followed suit.

"You all really don't look how I imagined you to look," Clockblocker admitted. "Miss Militia?"

The woman reached around her neck and slowly pulled off the scarf. She wasn't really one of the more costumed heroes, but it did rather well at hiding her features. Miss Militia grabbed something to eat as well. Clockblocker sighed.

"This is really crazy," he said, pulling off his mask as well. "What next, we gonna share our names?"

"No," Taylor said. "No need for that. This is enough for a show of trust."

"Don't get me wrong," Miss Militia said. "I don't actually trust you, but I trust that you understand just why exactly we need to return. Between Jack Slash and the aftermath of the Echidna attack, I don't think that Brockton Bay might stand long without…"

Without the Undersiders and the PRT. Miss Militia understood, Taylor thought, she really did.

Taylor nodded.

The middle-eastern looking woman began to eat, while the red-haired boy followed suit. Amal was looking between them as if trying to find something to say, but failing miserably.

* * *

Taylor and Miss Militia sat in a study, the map in front of them.

"We started here," Miss Militia pointed at the northern part of the map. "Regent was here, Bitch said she started very far south."

"So we all landed on these islands, except for Tattletale, Weld, and maybe Grue, who landed further south at the main continent," Taylor said. "There's something wrong about this, isn't there?"

"The hand grabbed you, the people who were pulled in first landed much closer here?" Miss Militia asked. "No, that's not it, we all landed somewhere, we fell from a great height and landed on solid ground."

"There is a lot of water," Taylor nodded. "And we were placed on land deliberately. This entire thing hasn't been random, it was whatever came out of the portal, it didn't want us dead, it wanted us here."

It wasn't really a stretch to imagine that there was some strong parahuman in another world, considering the existence of things like the Sleeper and Earth Aleph. Whatever this was, however, it was dangerous.

"So we find the thing that brought us here, we find a way home?" Miss Militia asked.

"Not unlikely, but I wouldn't count on it," Taylor sighed. "It wanted us here, it might not want to let us go."

"Why haven't we seen it in over a month, then?"

"Well… it wanted _me_ here," Taylor said. "It grabbed me, you said. I remember the hand from the dreams I had recently, there's… not a lot I can remember from them, I haven't rested well for a while."

"Clockblocker didn't have any nightmares," Miss Militia said.

"What about you?"

"I don't sleep."

Taylor felt a pang of jealousy. "I'd kill for a power like that."

Miss Militia actually smiled. "You're not the first one to say that."

When she didn't elaborate further, Taylor glanced back at the map.

"There's only one place that's a mystery for now, the unmapped part to the north-east," she pointed at the large part beyond the mountains. "If most of us landed on these islands, it wasn't just random."

"The thing that brought us here might be there?" Miss Militia asked. Taylor shrugged.

"It might be our only lead," Taylor said.

Miss Militia nodded.

"So we will go there when everyone is here?" she asked.

"No," Taylor shook her head. "We will wait for Tattletale's information before we go on a fool's errand. We don't know how to get over the mountains anyway. They're high enough that climbing them is dangerous."

Miss Militia nodded again, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall.

"Let's do that, then," Miss Militia said.


	17. Reunions

"One was like the sun, the daylight reflecting off his skin and blinding anyone who dared look upon his form – his every step accompanied by darkness, tendrils of the night sky leaving gaps between his clothes. They were followed by what we assumed to be a servant girl, but just like them, she was a spirit..."

* * *

Taylor sat across Izhar in the dining room of the temple. The corners of his mouth were slightly lowered, despite his forced attempt at a smile. The others had decided to go walk around the city, take in the sights and maybe learn more about anything that might have to do with the hand or a way home.

Bitch was doing… whatever Bitch went off to do when she was alone. Taylor knew where she was, but she would be here by dinner regardless.

But Taylor didn't want to. Not only to avoid the people, but also to talk to Izhar.

"Your dreams?" he asked. It was one of the reasons she wanted to talk to him instead of the others. The man was educated, and his opinion not as tainted as Amal's.

"I'm… having dreams," she said. "And there's a pattern, it's repeating and I just remembered it when one of the others mentioned it."

"It's nothing unusual. Anyone dreams, men and gods alike." Izhar nodded, glancing at a book on a shelf near the door. "There is a lot of literature about the topic."

"I don't care about the literature and stories about dreams," she said. The man blinked. "I'm interested in the image, if there's anything you can tell me about it."

"What image would that be?"

"Chains," she said. "A hand blanketed in chains."

The man blinked again. Izhar hummed, his hand coming up to his cheek, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought.

"I admit, I can think of multiple stories like this, but…" he began, sighing. "I've heard that you're looking for a way back 'home', was it? The place where you live, and the other spirits as well."

"Yes," Taylor said, nodding. "There's a lot going on, and our visit here was apparently forced by the hand that came through the portal."

"Portal?" he asked.

"Think a door from one place to another," she explained. The word itself wasn't unfamiliar to him, obviously. "Only instead of just letting you enter a home or exit to the outside, it can let you travel incredible distances, or even worlds."

"And this door from your world to ours was what led you here?" he repeated. She nodded. "That doesn't really narrow the selection of literature down."

Taylor sighed. She had assumed as much.

"However, I do understand the concept of the world of the Gods and the world of Man. I assume the portal you had opened wasn't actually supposed to lead you here?"

"It wasn't," she said. "It was made to let a few people go back home, but after they left, everything went to hell."

"I am unsure if I would call our world 'hell'," the man smiled. Taylor coughed, a bit too late to change her words. "Say, spirit Skitter, do you believe in 'fate'?"

"No."

The answer couldn't have come out quicker, and the man, once again, blinked. Taylor didn't believe in fate, people made their fate. As probable as the end of the world that Dinah predicted was, there was still a chance to fight back.

"Then you might not like what I have to say," Izhar told her. "I will do so nonetheless, and maybe you will find it in you to listen to my words without bias. There is an order to the world, certain events happen because they [i] _have[/i]_ to happen, but we are free to change these events."

It was Taylor's turn to blink confusedly. "I think your definition of fate differs from mine."

"How so?"

"Fate is what you say, certain events that happen because they were predetermined, but there's nothing you can change about that."

"Let me try again." He stood up, stretching slightly, before walking around towards the bookshelf, his voice rising slightly so she could still understand him. "Mamitu, mother of the gods and the humans, is also the Mother of our Fate. Our Fate is to live free from the machinations of the world, and develop as we see fit, which means accepting or refusing the help of divine beings as we see fit. Of course, we have accepted the help all the time, and it led us to prosper."

"So you're saying your concept of fate is simply free will?" Taylor asked. "That's something I can believe in."

"Then, if you had chosen not to send those people home through this portal," he began. "You would not have arrived here, would you?"

Taylor's eyebrows twitched. Another point to blame on Tattletale. She hoped it was worth it for the Travelers, but they were really the least of her concerns. "No."

"Rather, your appearance here is the sum of your choices up to that point, and this hand, whatever it was, used your choices to lead you here."

"But what if it was simply a hallucination? Something strange we saw because we were being sent from one place to another?"

"Then maybe it has less meaning than you think." Izhar smiled. "Or it is the most important memory you have. Though I have to ask, spirit Skitter, why can you not create another portal to lead you home?"

Taylor cursed Tattletale. Miss Militia wasn't wrong. Despite probably being her best friend, the girl could do a [i] _catastrophic[/i]_ amount of damage with her mouth.

"The people who could did not get pulled in with us," she said. "Our powers don't change, at least not that much. They're decided and stay like this."

Unless a second trigger happened, but there was no need to explain anything she knew about passengers, as minimal as her knowledge about the topic was.

"Fascinating," he said, his hands twitching as if looking for something. The book had been opened on an empty page. "Forgive me, such revelations have to be written down…"

He put the book on the table, his thin fingers pointing at a certain point in the text. Taylor's headache came back when the thought of her dreams hit her. She could read this text. She could understand the language.

Why did it look so wrong now?

"The story of heroes?" she asked.

"It's a fictional story, though they say that all stories have some truth in them, and I believe that anything written might as well have happened."

Looks like there was an avid reader here. Taylor frowned, looking at the pages. It wasn't bad, but his mention of it simply being fictional didn't do anything to help her be interested.

"To summarize, it is about four heroes who were summoned," Izhar explained. "To fight an ancient evil."

"I… don't believe that this is the case," she said. Honestly, that sounded like a [i] _really[/i]_ bad plot, and even worse if it actually happened. "The problem is that the others weren't dragged here. They fell in after I was grabbed, they say."

"You specifically?" he asked. "Why you?"

"I wonder that too," she told him, leaning back in her chair. He put the book back up on the shelf. "I just want to get home and be done with all of this headache."

The man looked rather downcast at her words, similar to Amal.

"I am sad that you are not feeling home in our kingdoms, spirit Skitter, and it pains me that you want to leave us so quickly."

"It's not you or the people," Taylor said. "Something bad happened and I need to check on everyone. My family, my city."

"I understand," Izhar nodded. "You have responsibilities. I swear an oath to you, spirit Skitter, I shall look for the chains in every book we have and I will report to you with any information I can find."

"Thank you," she said. "Maybe ask Miss Militia, she has really good memory and could tell you more about the hand and the chains."

"I shall do that. That woman is wise beyond her years," he said.

Taylor couldn't say she didn't like Miss Militia. Despite being an enemy for months, the woman has never been unreasonable. She can't even fault her for pistol whipping Tattletale and putting a gun into her mouth. If Taylor was in the heroes' shoes, she would have done the same. And Miss Militia was right. [i] _Alexandria[/i]_ was right. The portal was a bad choice.

"I'll go look for my friends." Taylor stood up. "Thank you for your time."

"Anything for our gods."

* * *

Taylor muttered curses under her breath as she approached the place she could feel Clockblocker, Alec and Newter in. She couldn't understand how those three actually got along, especially with Clockblocker absolutely [i] _loathing[/i]_ her presence, and looking for excuses upon excuses to avoid her. It's not like whatever she did was as bad as Alec getting rid of Sophia, right?

Right. Obviously. There was no way armies of bugs crawling on people's skin and into their noses could in any way be worse. Aisha was walking next to her.

"Yeah, bugs and all that are totally not as gross as body control." Aisha nodded. Taylor stopped, the girl following suit.

"Did I just talk out loud?" Taylor asked. She was sure she hadn't. "Did… we talk and you used your power on me?"

"Nope!" Aisha said. Taylor narrowed her eyes at the girl. "Maybe?"

"Don't do that," Taylor said. "I've had enough problems keeping focused."

"You know I'd never do anything serious." Aisha sighed, but shrugged. "Alright, I promise. No sense of humor. But really, I'm pretty sure that if we were enemies, I'd [i] _totally_ [/i] be a lot more terrified by you than I would be about Alec."

"Your power makes you immune to him," Taylor said.

"Yes, but if it [i] _didn't[/i]_!" Aisha grinned. Taylor sighed, shaking her head and entering the bar. "Underage drinking, whoo!"

"No drinking," Taylor said.

"Party-pooper, booo!"

"BOOO!" Alec shouted, raising his fist. He looked slightly tipsy, his eyes closed slightly. Clockblocker didn't look drunk, while Newter was just sitting back watching them play with some cards. "Hey, Skitter, could you grab your groupie and tell her to explain these cards to me?"

Cards was a stretch. These things looked more like thin plates of metal or maybe some shiny stone with some numbers on them.

"Are you drunk?" Taylor asked. "Really?"

"Dunno, are you?" Alec slurred.

"He's pretending to be more drunk than he is, he didn't even finish his glass," Newter said.

"Dammit, man, stop doing this to me, you need to let me tell stuff my way," Alec said, his slurring gone. "Am I the only one who wants to have some fun here?"

"You're in a sacred city full of pilgrims and wondering why the tavern is so empty this early in the morning," Newter said. "And Clockblocker can't drink because Miss Militia would be really pissed."

"Understatement of the century," the ginger said. "You think being a Ward is easy? It's the horror."

"Being a villain is way harder," Alec shrugged. "Nobody likes you. At least you get some good PR and the chicks on PHO."

"I'm pretty sure nobody likes you because you're you," Aisha said, sitting down next to him.

"Ah, you wound me," he sighed theatrically, his fingers digging into his chest.

"It's not [i] _all[/i[_ fun and games and nope, the nudes are not better than anything you can find on the internet."

Taylor wanted to smash her head against the wall.

"They're better because they're personal!" Aisha argued.

"Not you too," Taylor muttered. "Okay, I'm out, Aisha, tell that idiot not to drink too much, I'll look for the others, alright?"

"Aight!" Aisha waved her off, taking the plates/cards. "Holy shit these are heavy."

Taylor left, leaving bugs on them, and making a note to make them bite whenever someone tried to drink something.

* * *

Taylor found Bitch near a more open place. Despite the city's size, there were a few patches of green here and there, and while Taylor could barely see those between the buildings, she could feel them through her bugs and made her way there.

It wasn't as nice as a normal park, but it would do. Bitch was apparently training the wolves in some basic commands.

"Hello," she said, approaching from the distance. Bitch grunted in acknowledgment. "Is the training going well?"

"Too easy," Bitch said, and Taylor could have sworn that she heard some confusion in the girl's voice.

"Too easy?" Taylor asked. "Is that not a good sign?"

"Never happened before." Bitch shrugged. "It barely takes two tries and they have it down. "It's only been three months."

'Only'. Taylor became painfully aware of how long exactly they were gone. Maybe it wasn't actually a full 90 days, but it was still significant enough.

Not much longer and Taylor spent as much time here as she has spent in Brockton Bay in a costume.

Only there was no Leviathan here, no Slaughterhouse Nine, no Echidna.

No heroes fighting the villains. No Coil. No corrupt PRT.

If she hadn't lived through all that to help Brockton Bay, Taylor might've grown attached to this place. Or maybe she was already attached to it in some way. It was peaceful, kind of. At least a lot less full of conflict than Brockton Bay was. Is.

"You think it might have to do with how we ended up here?" Taylor asked. Bitch shrugged.

"How should I know?"

"I'm not sure, maybe you noticed some kind of change besides… well, this," she indicated towards the wolves, but wasn't sure if Bitch actually saw her arm move. The wolves all sat down Bitch said the word barely above a whisper. "My range went whack, still not something I'd compare to this city's size, but definitively large."

"Portal did this to our powers?" Bitch asked.

"Maybe."

"It's not bad," Bitch said. "Just confusing."

"Not bad," Taylor agreed. "Just… really confusing."

"That's what I said," Bitch looked at her.

"I know, just agreeing with you," Taylor sighed. "I'll go back to the temple, just be there before dinner, alright?"

"Alright."

* * *

The way to the temple was, as always, accompanied by stares and bows. Someone was with Izhar, the two men inside the temple moving around way too much, and if there was a smaller amount of bugs there, she might've thought he was being attacked.

Luckily, she could listen in.

"Really?"

"Yes, yes, truly, a marvelous sight, but… it seems they're in conflict."

"Two spirits fighting…?"

Considering Taylor met anyone besides Miss Militia, and doubting that Miss Militia would go back on her word, whoever was fighting must've been someone else.

And considering there were only three people missing, Taylor's steps increased in size and speed, making bigger strides towards the temple until she all but crashed through the door where Izhar and the man stood.

"Who is fighting?" she asked.

"The sun and the moon!" the frightened man said, he looked young, in an armor that looked cheaper than anything she had ever seen, wearing some crest she didn't know. "Like the night and the day clashing against each other! Oh Helel and Iblis truly brought down their wrath…"

'Night' was probably Grue. 'Day'?

"I'll go stop them," Taylor said, hoping she could. Grue would listen to her, but she wondered who the other one way. Weld and Tattletale were with him, if she recalled correctly. "Which gate?"

"Southern gate, where you entered, milady," the man said. She nodded, immediately turning around and leaving. Izhar and the man continued talking.

Once again, it took a while to reach the gate, but her bugs could find her targets before she could see them. Grue, without a doubt. The other was… cold. Weld. It [i] _was[/i]_ Weld, and she could see why they called him sun when she finally reached the gates. The sun was hitting his metallic skin in away that made him shine blindingly. It was a pain looking directly at him as the two approached the gate.

And Tattletale. She was there, of course. Great, now she could actually punch her. It didn't actually look like they were fighting, however, Grue and Weld walking into the same direction with a considerable distance between them, Tattletale standing in the middle, smiling widely.

Miss Militia, Amal and Bitch arrived behind her on Bitch's dogs. Apparently Amal was with Miss Militia the whole time, not that Taylor checked on them. It was better if Amal was less attached to her and actually talked to some of the others more often, maybe that would help her gain a new perspective.

"BRO!"

And there was Imp. It's incredible how quick news travelled through this place despite its size and lack of modern communication.

Grue visibly reacted, his face turning to Aisha and his pace slightly quickening. Taylor didn't say anything, despite the joy she felt. And she was joyful, no doubt, but…

Something felt strange. It felt wrong. She should be feeling so happy that her heart was jumping right out of her throat, but she didn't.. Weld and Miss Militia took a step to the side, away from the villains, while Grue and Aisha hugged.

Tattletale approached her, smiling.

"I really want to punch you," Taylor admitted. Tattletale spread her arms, as if inviting her to. Taylor took a step forward and wrapped her arms around the fellow villain. "Later I will."

"You noticed, didn't you?" Tattletale asked. Taylor nodded, before shaking her head. Damn Thinkers. "I'll tell you in private, alright?"

Taylor didn't say anything, nodding slightly before moving a step back as Grue approached.

He had his helmet on, and like usual in costume his darkness was spreading in small tendrils away from his body. She still didn't hesitate almost tackling him, her arms wrapping around his broad chest.

She would've cried, had it not been for that nagging feeling.

"I missed you," she said.

"Me too."

His voice was rough, and she had been gone way too long without hearing it.

* * *

"Alright!" Lisa clapped her hands together as everyone was gathered at the table in the temple. "Praise be, praise be, everyone is alive and well, all limbs are still there?"

"We're not here for pleasantries, Tattletale, please," Taylor said. "If you don't get to the point quick, I'll let Miss Militia shoot you."

Amal wasn't with them, the girl excluded from the talks right now and looking obviously devastated after being told. Brian and Lisa had taken off their masks after explaining the temporary truce. Weld and Newter sat next to each other, not saying anything.

"Alright, what if I told you, 'Magic is real'?" Lisa began.

"The point, Tattletale," Miss Militia said.

"Okay, let's look at it like this: [i] _Something_ [/i] pulled us in, and this isn't Earth Aleph, nor is this some kind of ancient world in the middle of the Earth Bet, nope, it's different, people here evolved the same as we did, but under other influences."

"Influences?" Taylor asked.

"I told you, this place doesn't make much sense from our standpoint. The geography and the way the weather here works despite that isn't exactly what I would call 'realistic' or 'earth-like', you know? It might be a place where there's some [i] _really_ [/i] powerful parahumans who have control over the entire world."

It didn't sound like an unrealistic possibility considering things like the Endbringers and Scion existed. Things more powerful than any other normal parahuman in existence.

"Nature was ours, here it was something else," Lisa said simply. "Maybe something that's similar to what gave us powers, whatever it is, whether you want to call it magic or science, it dragged us here."

"You mean it dragged her here," Weld said, pointing at Taylor. "We shouldn't be here, right?"

"Right," Lisa nodded. Taylor glared at her. "I mean, it's probably my fault, I admit that, but still, whatever dragged us here, it was after Skitter."

"Gee, look at Ms. Oh-so-special," Regent muttered. "Gets prayed to, has groupies. Me? I got arrested."

"I wouldn't make light of it," Taylor said, glancing at Brian. "It might be our key to getting home. Finding whatever tried to get me here."

"Yes, of course!" Lisa all but made a 'squee' sound. Taylor's eyebrows twitched. "So now the important question, where do we find it?"

Silence.

Complete and utter silence. The uncomfortable wait of everyone waiting for Lisa to give them the answer, while Lisa just looked around, the emotion of 'hope' so clear in her eyes as she stared at them. "Shit."

"You had one job, Tattletale!" Regent stood up, slamming his hand on the table. He didn't actually sound angry, but if he was trying to make a joke, it fell flat.

"Okay, this is kinda worse than I expected," she admitted. "I guess we can start living here, then."

"Sit down."

Taylor stood up as the blonde girl did as she was told. From her bag she grabbed the map, putting it on the table for everyone to see.

"We don't really have much of a choice," Taylor said. "And we know [i] _every[/i]_ place here except for this," she pointed at the unmapped part in the north, beyond the mountains. "I'm not saying we'll find what we need there, but we are definitely not going to find anything just sitting here doing nothing or getting drunk."

"Doing nothing [i] _and[/i]_ getting drunk," Regent muttered under his breath, just barely enough for her bugs to catch it.

"Okay, how?" Tattletale asked. "I know enough that they said nobody actually survived getting there."

"You will find a way," Taylor decided. "I'll help you with all the info I've gathered."

"Sure," Lisa shrugged. "And I got to tell you about that time Weld and I were fighting some mercenaries."

Weld sighed. Newter patted him on the shoulder.

* * *

Taylor didn't even need to be told, the bugs around the room checking for any holes, the bugs outside checking for anyone listening in. When she was sure that nobody was listening, she nodded to Tattletale.

"Okay, I'm not sure where to start, actually, you can't really remember, can you? Of course you can't," Lisa began. "It's… Grue, and Imp. It seems strange."

"What does?"

"I'll try to be as considerate as I can be of your feelings, but, uh… I kinda think Grue and Imp might know more than we do about all of this."

"How?" Taylor asked, her heart skipping a beat as a strange sickening feeling spread through her gut. "[i] _Why_?[/i]"

"Think back to the Echidna, when the portal was made," Lisa began. "They [i] _weren't there_.[/i]"

Taylor blinked, her head hurting as she tried to think back to the event with the portal. Grue and Imp were…

They were gone. Imp took him away when he ended up being caught by her and relived his triggers. Taylor's eyes widened, looking towards the door, then back at Lisa.

"They…"

The feeling came up to her throat, the headache growing worse. The words were stuck in her throat.

"No, I don't think… they would never- even if, they would tell us, Grue was out cold, did you talk to him?"

"I did, but he couldn't remember anything, he said," Lisa shrugged. "I believe him as much as you do, but Imp… I don't think I could ask her any questions without her dodging it with her powers."

Taylor checked on the girl. She was with her brother, talking about some unimportant things. Not listening in.

"What do you want to do then?"

"Ignore it until there's a problem?" Lisa tried. "Honestly, they were gone but still ended up here, it might not've been their choice, and whatever grabbed you did actually intend to get us as well. It's not unlikely."

"It doesn't make any sense without a portal near them!" Taylor shouted, before her voice lowered quickly. Her bugs were buzzing loudly, lowering in volume as she let go of her sudden anger. She didn't want to believe Tattletale, but everything about this seemed so _wrong_. And as many mistakes Lisa had made so far, she wouldn't be lying about this.

Especially because Taylor knew she's right, now that the memories were less blurry. Brian and Aisha, they weren't there when the portal opened.

They couldn't have been there because Aisha would have _never_ let Brian near danger while in that comatose state.

Taylor swallowed a lump in her throat.

"We'll talk about this later, alright? When I had some time to think about it."

Lisa nodded.

This was much worse than she thought.

Much, much worse.


	18. Tearing Apart

Thanks to syzgzy Halt and Rayndeon - I present:

SoN16

"... Three traitors. And we thoughts bonds were forever. Have they truly changed this much in the years we have not been paying attention?"

* * *

"You're sure this doesn't have anything to do with Cauldron?" Weld asked. They had taken the next ship back to the eastern island, and with the wind like this, it shouldn't take too long to reach it. This time though, they received quite a humongous ship, enough that walking across it took a few minutes, the interior allowing everyone to have their own place.

"Not sure, per se," Tattletale said. "But from what I could gather, it seems like Cauldron is _mostly_ out of the picture. They might have made contact with the world, but Cauldron as an organization hasn't existed long enough to significantly influence this entire world so far."

"So it _is_ a Cauldron plot?" Weld asked, again.

"No…" Tattletale sighed.

Taylor could actually see a small grin on the metallic youth's face. It was strange, but considering they spent around two months with each other before they finally met up with the others, it didn't sound _too_ strange. Tattletale must have been playing along as well, because she _should_ have known when someone is joking. Her power was good at that.

Not as much as Clockblocker and Regent getting along well enough that even Miss Militia had voiced her concerns a few times. Imp had been hanging around Grue for a while and Bitch had been mostly alone with the wolves, disliking being on the ship enough to become even more irritable than usual.

Taylor sat next to Miss Militia, leaning against a wall inside of the ship, watching the scene with some amusement.

"You're tense," Miss Militia said. The older woman didn't even glance at her, also focused on Weld and Tattletale deciding on the exact definition of 'Cauldron plot' and their involvement in absolutely everything, apparently.

"When am I not?" Taylor asked.

"Not too long ago, before Grue and Tattletale came," Miss Militia explained. "You were calmer then. Different."

"You don't know me," Taylor said. "How I am, how I act."

"Maybe not, but you are still acting different," Miss Militia said. "I remember how you acted after Leviathan, about Shadow Stalker."

Taylor frowned. Sophia hasn't been on her mind in a while, considering she hadn't seen Iman for that time. She wondered how Miss Militia might react to seeing a girl who looked so similar to the Ward here.

"Yes?"

"He told me about you," Miss Militia admitted. Armsmaster, Taylor assumed. "He's not good with words or with people, but he didn't think you actually wanted to be a villain."

"What I wanted to be doesn't matter anymore," Taylor said. "I'm past that now. What I need to do is what needs to be done."

"And what would that be?"

Tattletale and Weld were still going at it, their voices rising slightly at some points.

"What needs to be done," Taylor repeated. What did need to be done? So much, and with so little time. The Slaughterhouse Nine, Cauldron, the Endbringers. Too much, too little time. "Whatever it takes."

"You'd have made one hell of a Ward," Miss Militia said. "Not a bad leader either."

"I'm not going to lower my guard because you're whispering some sweet words," Taylor said dryly, glancing at Miss Militia through the corners of her eyes. Miss Militia didn't seem like she would actually do things like that.

"Of course not." Miss Militia grinned. "That's not my intention. But I had some time to think, two months, a lot of nights I wondered just what kind of person you are, what kind of people we've shown ourselves to be."

"And what kind of person am I?" Taylor asked.

"You're a punk," Miss Militia said smoothly. "Ruthless and dangerous, you hate authority and everything around it."

Taylor opened her mouth before closing it quickly, the edges of her mouth twitching. "Maybe."

Considering the authority she had witnessed, from Winslow to the PRT, it wasn't a surprise, even if she didn't exactly like it. It was necessary in some places, but absolutely problematic in others.

"I don't like you," Miss Militia admitted,"but you're not what I'd consider one of the worst Brockton Bay had to offer in all these years."

"I'd love to say the same, but you're the only hero I actually like on the opposite side," Taylor said, shrugging.

"Even after everything with the Echidna event and the PRT's involvement with Cauldron?"

"Even after that. The PRT is necessary, I don't think we could do without," Taylor replied. "And Cauldron is just a problem that people can band together to work against."

"Mhm," was the non-committal response of the veteran hero. Taylor didn't say anything.

"Look, Piggot is [i] _not[/i]_ the Illuminati, she's actually [i] _real[/i]_."

"That's what the Illuminati want you to think!"

Clockblocker and Regent joined them inside, deeply embroiled in their own important topic.

Taylor shook her head. This was way too much.

* * *

The last few days had been strange. Taylor had barely said a dozen words to Grue the entire trip. But the fact that she actually slept [i] _peacefully[/i]_ the previous night bothered her even more.

While she appreciated the good night's rest, she worried about what the change in the pattern meant.

She hadn't told anyone else, but they probably already knew. Amal woke her up quickly enough, no matter what was necessary, even if that meant waking up drenched in cold water each morning.

Amal was… different too. More distant. Taylor had a feeling that the girl was rather intimidated by everyone, and took great lengths to avoid them when they were together. Especially Grue.

Taylor shook her head, clearing those thoughts away. She was sitting on a 'bed' in the interior of the large ship. Compared to beds in her world, everything here wasn't up to standard, but this one was really bad, hard and uncomfortable.

She sighed. If she just let this stew, she would regret it.

She would try to subtly ask Imp, implying that she knew Imp hadn't been near the portal at all. She would do it on the ship, before arriving near the harbor, so Imp would have less options to escape.

Miss Militia likely knew as well, but hadn't mentioned anything so far. Maybe she thought the same: Maybe they were just unjust suspicions and whatever dragged them here also got Imp for some reason.

Her thoughts were ripped away from her when the ship shook violently, throwing her off the bed and onto the wooden floor.

"Wha-" she managed to gasp out before the ship shook again, slamming her against the wall. Gritting her teeth together, she stood up, ready to make her way out no matter how bad the footing would be…

Only, it wasn't bad.

The ship stood still, not rocking slightly like it usually did. Taylor's eyes widened and she rushed out of the room, towards the stairs and out to the deck. The crew was rushing around, trying to look for the problem, while all the capes stood together. Miss Militia and Tattletale were arguing about what was going on, while Clockblocker looked over the side of the ship, down at the water.

Bitch actually looked a bit relieved that the ship had come to a stop.

"What happened?" Taylor asked.

"No idea," Regent said. "Ship shakes, boom, ship stop shaking. I don't think we hit land."

Taylor's breath hitched as she heard a strange sound, a mix of something ripping and the sound of nails scratching on a blackboard. Her head snapped towards the noise, while the others still looked around confusedly.

"What's that?" she asked. A line, floating in the air. It looked [i] _wrong[/i]_. Something two dimensional in a three dimensional room, no matter what direction she looked from, it seemed to follow her.

"That doesn't look good," Tattletale said. Miss Militia made a gun, aiming at the line. "I have absolutely no clue what this could be."

The line opened up, ripping through the air as if swallowing all light around it, creating a black hole that [i] _hurt[/i]_ to look at, as if it was taking parts of their vision away. Taylor narrowed her eyes, forcing herself to keep focused on the black hole as she set a few bugs she always had around towards it.

The moment they touched the hole… they were gone. She hadn't felt them die before they disappeared... so they were just out of range instead?

"I think it's a portal," Taylor said. "Bugs went out of range."

"A way back to Brockton Bay, perhaps?" Weld asked. Tattletale shook her head.

"I can't get a read on this, best not to risk anything, just wait until something happens."

"And what if nothing happens?" Clockblocker asked, his hand pointed forward, at the portal.

"You touch it," Tattletale suggested. "Maybe lock it and-"

The portal opened wider, blanketing a part of the ship's deck in the darkness not unlike Grue's. A hand came out, clawed, metallic? A gauntlet. Taylor set up bugs on it immediately, and it continued. An arm, a shoulder… a head.

The face that stared at them was… different. It reminded Taylor of that rogue that went to the Birdcage, Canary. Way too bright eyebrows and eyelashes, shining in a neon green color that was as uncomfortable to look at as the absolute black of the portal. The person was bald, however, and she couldn't quite place a gender to the face.

"A cape?" Grue asked, his darkness creeping towards the portal, slowly.

The rests of the person's body came, dressed in an armor that fit the dark shade of the gauntlets, and as the last hand exited the portal, so did a sword. It didn't look very practical, almost ornamental, actually, adorned with gold and gems.

The person tilted their head when it caught sight of them.

"Who are you?" Miss Militia asked, the gun still trained on them.

"Zidane."

Definitely a man. Despite the incredibly androgynous face, the voice was deep, even deeper than Grue's.

Miss Militia hesitated, as if looking for a question she could ask and demand an answer for.

"Where does that portal lead?" Taylor asked. Whoever the youth was, perhaps he knew a way back if he could create a portal such as this. If he did, there was some hope for them.

"Heaven?" Zidane tried. He grimaced, looking around, before his eyes settled on an empty spot between Grue and Taylor. "You will come with us."

"We're not going anywhere until you explai-"

"We?" Tattletale interrupted. An arrow's tip poked its way out of the portal, directly in line with her as it slowly moved forward, as if caught in water. Wasting no time, Weld put himself in front of the villain, fast enough to stop the arrow with his body just as it sped up. It didn't do anything to him, but the dam was broken, and Miss Militia didn't hesitate to return fire.

Zidane used his sword to deflect the volley of bullets, moving at incredible speeds. She didn't miss a beat, transforming her handgun into an assault rifle and pulling the trigger, forcing the man to dodge out of the way, apparently unable to keep using his sword to block the faster bullets now. Some of the bullets hit the portal.

Another arrow flew through, hitting Weld again. The next person stepped out, almost instantly instead of slowly like Zidane. Again, bald, but with tattoos all over their face and head, down to their shoulders. Their clothes were plain, in comparison to Zidane's armor, but this one's clothes were filled out in the right places. Definitely female. She had a few bullets on her clothes, flattened.

Taylor set bugs on her, all kinds of bees and the like she had gathered from around the Sacred City, biting and stinging the girl's body. She didn't react. Bitch's wolves began attacking as well, moving in tandem with each other, two staying back the whole time, circling around. Grue stepped forward, attempting to blanket the next person that stepped through in darkness.

Miss Militia's weapon held strong against Zidane's sword, but she was struggling to hold him back, too close to fire at him at this angle. Things were getting more chaotic by the second. They needed to work together.

"Clockblocker, help Miss Militia," Taylor said, trying to keep track of everyone with her bugs. "Weld, keep protecting Tattletale. Newter, go help Bitch, see if you can knock them out. Regent, do [i] _something[/i]_."

She almost expected a cry of 'Who allowed you to give us orders?', but they did as she told them to. Grue's darkness vanished, and he cried out in pain as he keeled over. The third one had hair, red in a more natural shade than the bright green she had seen from Zidane. He was holding a bow, a quiver filled with arrows on his back, and his fist deep in Grue's gut.

"Grue!"

A bullet whizzed past them, hitting the boy in the shoulder. Tattletale still had her gun, of course, but the ammunition was limited… He held his shoulder, a pained expression on his face, before pulling apart his bow and drawing them around Grue's neck the moment Taylor was about to focus her bugs on him. She [i] _could[/i]_ hurt him, but he could hurt Grue.

How had he seen through Grue's darkness so easily? How was he so [i] _strong[/i]_?

Regent waved his hand in the boy's direction, trying to catch him in his power's grip. The boy's hand didn't even twitch.

Taylor didn't have time to think about it. Despite being outnumbered, it looked like the attackers had the advantage, and the ship's crew had retreated away from the fight. Imp appeared, standing in front of the portal.

"Whoa," she said. "I get it, stop being bitches about it, let him go."

The red haired boy glanced at her, while Zidane kept dodging Clockblocker's attempts at tagging him while keeping Miss Militia locked in a fight of strength, too nimble for her to keep him out of reach. One of Bitch's wolves held down the girl, others circling around to close off any path of escape. At the same time, Newter placed his hand against her head, trying to knock her out with his hallucinogenic sweat, but she stayed awake, not bothering to fight back.

Suddenly, the red haired boy smiled. A genuine happy smile, just short of laughter, as if someone told him a good joke.

"Imp?" Taylor said. "What's going on?"

"No idea." Imp grinned. It looked strained. "Those are not the guys I dealt with before."

Taylor saw Tattletale react as well. Grue was wheezing, looking up from where the bladed pieces of the bow were pushed against his neck. "Aisha…"

"Had to help you somehow," Imp said. "That monster girl really did a number on you…"

"You will not continue to speak," the red haired boy said. "Enter the portal."

"IMP!" Taylor shouted. The girl didn't even turn around and jumped through, and Grue tried to rip himself away from the man, oily darkness spreading out from around him. The boy slammed his elbow into Grue's face, knocking him down. One of the wolves tried to jump the red haired boy, but he went through the portal in a quick leap.

Taylor sent bugs towards the girl's face, some crawling into her nose, attacking her from within.. She coughed lightly, as if only mildly perturbed by the insects wriggling inside her nose. Despite that, the girl's face actually showed some discomfort, her eyes watering slightly as well. It _had_ an effect on her, but not as violently as Taylor would have expected.

"Zidane," the girl said through the coughs, her voice rather strained as the wolf pressed its fangs against her chest, strengthened by Bitch's power. Miss Militia kept pushing against the armored man, pitting her strength against his. Then he suddenly disengaged, sending her stumbling forward, carried by her own momentum as she no longer had anything to press against.

He reached the wolf, his sword raised as Miss Militia regained her balance, aiming towards him but hesitating, unable to shoot while he stood near Bitch, Newter and the wolves. The sword came down, ripping through the wolf as if it was nothing but a sponge, sending an arc of blood over the wooden floor of the deck, before grabbing the girl and running towards the portal again. Her bullets weren't quick enough to stop him from entering, and the portal closed behind him, quicker than it had appeared.

Taylor shook her head, clearing her thoughts. The portal was gone, and Grue lay motionless on the ground. Bitch tried to tend to the cut wolf, bleeding profusely on the deck, its breaths labored. As bad as it was, she needed to get a handle on the situation.

"Tattletale," Taylor said, turning to the girl. "What was that?"

"I have a theory, but do you think this is the right time?"

Miss Militia, turned in place, training her rifle on Tattletale.

"A traitor in your ranks," Miss Militia said, the accusation evident in her voice. Taylor wouldn't call blackmail and kidnapping 'treason', but the words Imp had said before… Taylor didn't actually need Tattletale to tell her what happened.

"Something offered to heal Grue from the coma after Echidna grabbed him," Tattletale said quickly, confirming Taylor's suspicions. "[i] _Probably[/i]_ the same person that grabbed us through the portal."

Bitch was ignoring the standoff, growling as she tried to use her power to heal as much damage to the wolf as possible, but it was futile. If that sword had cut any of the others, it might as well have killed them. At least...

At least it was a wolf, and not them? For Bitch there was no difference. Taylor felt bad. She moved to help Grue while Weld put himself between Miss Militia and Tattletale.

"I knew too," Weld said. Taylor felt her headache growing. "As did you."

Miss Militia narrowed her eyes at the Case 53, but didn't say anything.

Grue was still breathing, his eyes slowly opening. "Shit, what hit m- Aissssshh…."

He slurred, his eyes closing once again. Taylor wiped away the blood at the side of his head, where the boy had hit him. It didn't actually look bad—it'd heal quickly, but if he had a concussion…

"Miss Militia," Clockblocker said, breathing heavily, glancing at the wounded wolf. "Please."

The woman looked angry, but lowered her gun before nodding. "Alright."

Clockblocker sighed in relief before approaching Bitch. She glared at him, but he didn't stop. When she actually stood up and grabbed him, he froze her.

"What the hell, Clockblocker?" Taylor asked. He moved to the wolf, as the other wolves around them growled loudly. He grabbed the wolf, and the world suddenly stopped making sense, everything now cast in brilliant hues of white and blue, inverting dark and light colors with each other.

Taylor's eyes were fixed upon the bright white sphere that appeared in Clockblocker's hands, widening as it spread out. For one moment she thought it was the false Grue, the Echidna clone, spreading the strange whiteness and blanketing over Clockblocker and the wolf, concealing them from view. Like a yo-yo, it snapped back as quickly as it had spread out.

She blinked, and the world's colors were normal again.

Clockblocker fell backwards as the wolf stood up, unwounded.

"I suppose there's been a few secrets everyone has been keeping from each other," Tattletale said.

"Not me, I really was in jail," Regent said. Bitch came back a few seconds later, about to punch Clockblocker until she caught glimpse of the wolf. She bent down, checking the spot where the wound was.

"Thanks," she said, and Clockblocker chuckled a little.

"I don't suppose you can help him as well?" Taylor asked, glancing at Grue.

"Yeah, sure… just give me a minute, it's... " Clockblocker was wheezing, almost tripping over his own feet as he stood up and scrambled over to Grue.

"Clockblocker," Miss MIlitia said, "don't push yourself."

"It shouldn't be that bad with a small wound," he assured his superior. "That guy really did a number on the wolf, just… give me a minute."

He grabbed Grue's face and the same disorienting color inversion happened, just as the white sphere around his hands enveloped both him and Grue. An instant later, the world returned back to normal, with Grue on his feet and Clockblocker on the ground. The boy was breathing heavily, staring at the sky.

"You alright?" Regent asked. If it wasn't Regent, Taylor would almost think he was actually concerned.

"Yeah, just… let me lie down for a bit…"

His wish wasn't granted as the ship suddenly moved forward, sending everyone to the ground with the unexpected acceleration. After a few moments, Amal came up from below, stumbling slightly as she caught her balance, looking towards them in concern. Grue was the first on his feet.

"Where is my sister?" Grue asked, moving towards Tattletale, his shoulders flared and his jaw set. Weld once again put himself in front of her. Taylor wished she could crack a joke about his protectiveness if the situation wasn't so dire.

"I got no idea!" Tattletale said quickly. "I didn't even know if my theory was right!"

"What theory?" Grue growled.

"That she's in cahoots with whatever grabbed us here in exchange for you to be healed from the Echidna ordeal?"

"And you just told me [i] _now[/i]_?"

"Everyone!" Taylor shouted. "Calm down."

"They have my [i] _sister[/i]_ , Tay… Skitter. I won't just stand here and-"

"You're on a ship, so right now, you're not going anywhere," Taylor said, shutting him down. His eyes narrowed, but he didn't retort. "I know you're concerned about her, but they didn't attack her, they must've wanted her unharmed, so we still got a chance to find her, right?"

The question was directed at Tattletale, who was looking off to the side, her lips pursed and her eyebrows scrunched up with concentration.

"Yes, right, unharmed," Tattletale glanced to Miss Militia. "Not like they couldn't if they wanted to. My bullet actually hurt the red guy, but the other one, Zidane, was too quick, and the girl probably could've ignored it. They were capes, right?"

"Presumably," Miss Militia said. "Movers and Brutes?"

"I don't know, I didn't get the same [i] _feel[/i]_ from them, if you get what I'm saying, I… I need some time to process all this."

Taylor shook her head.

If they weren't capes, and this sword that Zidane had used wasn't some kind of Tinker-weapon that could easily rend bones…

She glanced at Amal, who was approaching her, praying.

"Could you copy them, Grue?" Tattletale asked.

"You lied to me," Grue said, ignoring her question. "All of you."

"I didn't know," Taylor said. "I just…"

"You suspected her." Grue accused them. "You suspected me too. Look where that got us."

"That's not how it happened," Tattletale said. "And you know that."

"I don't know what to believe anymore." He shook his head. He looked so disappointed, so… so defeated.

Taylor felt sick. She was right, keeping this hidden blew up in their faces… just a lot earlier than she expected.

Weld looked towards Tattletale. "Are you sure these weren't from Cauldron?"

"One-hundred percent sure," Tattletale said, mirroring their conversation from the last time, their tone a lot more serious now.

"Man…" Clockblocker gasped out. "How could we lose like this?"

"Fucking capes, man." Regent lay down besides him. "Say, can you use that power to cure alcohol poisoning?"

"Fuck," Clockblocker began, before breaking out in coughs. "You."

 _A_


	19. Taylor, not Skitter

"I've met them. I don't know what to make of them, but it's clear, my sister's touch has reached her. Maybe it changed her, even, but I cannot be sure…"

* * *

Taylor loved her costume.

It was comfortable, allowing her to move around while being protected all the time, and it didn't feel bad as a pajama either.

It better be after all the time she spent making it. It wasn't really hard getting all the spiders together this time because she didn't have to be as subtle. And granted the second one was a lot easier to make, taking barely a fraction of the time it took her to make the first costume… the second, considering her failure of creating the first due to it not fitting right.

That didn't mean she could wear it the whole time though. She relaxed in some normal robes, sitting on a bed and reading a small book she found inside the home. The writing took some time getting used to, and the story it told didn't really go anywhere, but it was a great way to waste some time and distract herself.

It had been three days since Imp's kidnapping, and despite all that, Taylor had been feeling a lot better lately. There were no more nightmares and she was able to rest well, wake up in the morning instead of three times in the middle of the night.

They had arrived in Khalil yesterday and managed to settle in for the night, looking for a trip back to the capital before trying to cross the mountains.

It wasn't a surprise that she had a bad feeling in her gut, as if someone had punched her repeatedly. The entire situation was confusing, irritating. Grue's distance hadn't been good for her either. She didn't want him to push her away, but she couldn't approach without his approval. She shook her head. There was more at stake, a lot more. Brockton Bay was without them for the past two months.

The door to the room she had been sleeping in opened slightly. "My lady?"

Taylor sighed. "Come in."

Amal entered, the girl's short brown hair had grown a bit further than her shoulders since the first time Taylor met her, no longer looking quite like Madison. The more she looked, the more she noticed all the small differences. The girl was tanned from all the time spent outside, and she had lost a bit of weight from all the exercise that was walking and riding horses, looking noticeably thinner in the face.

Noticing her stare, Amal's face started to look a bit red. The priestess shook her head, clearing whatever thoughts she had before sitting down next to Taylor.

"What is it?" Taylor asked. Amal looked as if she was struggling to find the right words, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she swallowed hard. Her eyes narrowed slightly, something Taylor might not have noticed if the girl hadn't been sitting this close.

"Spirit Grue," she began. It was Taylor's turn to be confused, her eyebrows raised. "You care about him, don't you?"

Taylor nodded. "Yes, I do."

"And… and you've been with him, correct?"

Taylor's eyebrows twitched. "And if I have?"

Amal looked nervous, fidgeting around, her knees rubbing together and her hands gripping into her robes. "I care about you!"

Amal's voice cracked slightly towards the end of that sentence, no more than a squeak. Taylor wasn't dumb, she wasn't unaware of just how far Amal's emotions went, and how this all stemmed from the idol worship she had. Like every day since landing here, Taylor wished she could stop people from praying to her.

"I like you," Taylor said, quickly continuing before Amal could draw any conclusions. "Not like that. Definitely not like that."

"It's, just," Amal stuttered, her shoulders dropping. "I care about you, a lot, and I see you care about him but... but he doesn't!"

Taylor clicked her tongue. Words didn't hurt as much as they used to, actions did, but hearing something like that from someone she kept identifying with one of her bullies made it a bit hard.

Grue has grown distant from the group as a whole, even while Regent and Clockblocker continued bonding and Weld was better friends with Tattletale than anyone expected. Miss Militia even apologized for pointing the gun at the thinker.

"The gods taught us that bonds were forever!" Amal continued, grasping for her religion's teachings instead of any actual reasoning. "And that all that is bonded will never break apart, so that souls of lovers shall reunite in afterlife and-"

"Amal, please," Taylor interrupted. "Get to the point or leave me alone."

"You care but he doesn't," Amal looked ready to cry as she repeated herself. "If he doesn't care, then did he ever? I… I'd never betray you, I'd never leave…"

Taylor had to admit that these words stung. A lot, actually. And once more, Taylor saw Madison in Amal, telling her she would never have a relationship because she was just plain ugly. She had _changed_ , she wasn't someone who actually cares about words like these anymore. She was more Skitter than Taylor. But…

But hearing this from someone who she actually liked? Worse, yet, something she couldn't deny immediately? He has been ignoring her the past three days, and any effort on her part was wasted. Despite herself, Taylor choked back a giggle.

Her chest hurt as her shoulders started to shake, keeling over as if she just heard the funniest joke ever. Amal looked confused, stopping the fidgeting from before. Taylor held her stomach, still silently laughing. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"What… what's so funny, milady?"

"It's-" the dam was broken, Taylor opened her mouth and the laughter escaped. Taylor felt sick. "It's you, you're just... "

"I'm?"

"You're not wrong," Taylor said, shaking her head as the giggles became weaker. "Fuck. I know you're not wrong… and the fact that you would go this far to tell me all this, tell me that the person I care about doesn't care about me, it's.."

Her shoulders shook again. Sick and hurt.

"This isn't going to work out," Taylor said. "Ever. I'm… I'm not the kind of person who's going to have a working relationship, hm? Madison wasn't wrong, haha."

Taylor shook her head. It wasn't actually that funny, and she didn't know what came over her.

Amal stared, her eyes slightly widened, looking as sad as she looked confused.

Taylor didn't realize how the time around here had changed her.

Right now, she wasn't the same as she was in Brockton Bay. She wasn't really Skitter anymore. Here, the name is nothing more than that, a name.

The name of a goddess, for them, admittedly, but not the name of a criminal. Not the name of someone who fought the Slaughterhouse 9 and the Leviathan.

So she had to stop thinking like Skitter right now. For her, Skitter was unbending, the persona where she could be everything she wasn't as a civilian. But as Taylor, she should make an effort, and stop treating everything like this was a war zone, like she had everything to lose if she showed a moment of weakness.

And Taylor had changed as well. She wasn't the person who used to be Emma's friend or the person who was bullied in school to the point where she triggered. She was someone with new experiences, someone who didn't have to behave after the same old patterns.

Taylor nodded, deciding: She would apologize to Tattletale, eventually, and she would talk to Grue whether he wanted to or not. And who knew, maybe she would take up Regent's offer up to go drinking one time.

* * *

Taylor sat down next to Regent. Strangely enough, Clockblocker hadn't been sitting with him, instead talking with Miss Militia.

"Hey boss, still busy being angry?" he asked, a set of knives sitting in front of him, neatly arranged at the desk.

"Not really, no," Taylor said, shaking her head. The weapons were arranged by the size of their blades, and one was almost a short sword. "You planning a murder?"

"Nope."

He didn't seem very inclined to talk with her, instead picking up one of the knives, it had a thin line of dried blood on it.

"Say, Skitter," he said, sounding dubious. His brow was furrowed, his eyes not leaving the table. 'Serious' wasn't an expression she was used to at all. "Did your power change? Like Clockblocker's did?"

"Kind of," Taylor admitted. He glanced at her, putting the knife down. "I'm healing quicker," she said. "And well, I don't need my glasses anymore, but…"

"That's a big thing, though," he said. "Maybe you second triggered and didn't notice?"

"No, that's not it," Taylor said, shaking her head. "It doesn't really _feel_ the same as my power."

"The healing doesn't have to do with your power, you think?" he asked. "I'm experimenting, I want to know if I have some new powers too, and I definitely don't heal faster."

He showed his hand, a large cut from his upper arm down to the middle finger visible, fresh, as if the bleeding just stopped. Taylor blinked, glancing back at the knife.

"Regent!" she shouted, appalled. The cut looked disgustingly crooked, probably from when he flinched while he cut himself. She knew Regent wasn't the most logical person, but she didn't actually expect him to _hurt_ himself. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"Clockblocker could probably heal it?" he asked. She glared at him, but he just shrugged. "And that I might be able to heal quicker, or use my power on inanimate objects, maybe even on plants, no deal."

Taylor rummaged through one of her small bags, grabbing some bandages she constantly carried with her and pointed at his arm. "Give me your hand."

"If you really wanted to hold hands, you just had to ask poli-" She didn't let him continue, grabbing his hand and pulling on it, making him wince in pain as she began bandaging his arm, probably putting a bit too much pressure.

"No more cutting yourself, we need you alive," Taylor ordered. He chuckled and shrugged.

"Yes, mom," he said. Her eyebrows twitched, Regent was being Regent. "You think we're gonna find her?"

"Yes." Taylor had no doubt that Imp was still alive. If they had wanted to, the attackers could have probably killed them. Maybe sunk the ship and left them to fend off for themselves, or even picked them off one by one while they still had the moment of surprise. Who knows what that sword would have done to her costume. "Don't you?"

"I'm not sure," Regent said, picking up the knife with the dried blood again. He put it down immediately when he saw Taylor's eyes narrow. "She's really good at provoking people if she wants to."

"Like you aren't," Taylor said. "But I think they need her for something."

Zidane, the bald man with the far too feminine face, the woman with the impenetrable skin and the red-haired youth who had knocked out Grue. Wherever they came from, it might have been a way home, and because of the surprise attack they didn't even manage to hold one of them to find out more about the portal. Imp _knew_ them. She must've known about the portal, then why hadn't she warned them?

Or maybe it's not _them_ she knew. Tattletale said that it's possible she knew people like them, that these three weren't the same that dragged Grue and Imp here.

"Ohhh, sacrifice her to some old god?" he asked. "Maybe make her the priestess like your groupie."

"I'd love to say she's not that bad," Taylor said, thinking about her moment of weakness just an hour ago. "She's not a bad source of information, though."

"Don't let Tats hear you say that, she's just gonna get pissy when we don't say she's the smartest one around here," Regent said. Taylor could see his eyes drooping. He was a lot more tired than he indicated, the pain from the knife must've kept him awake.

"You okay?" Taylor asked, he rubbed his eye.

"Not sure," he admitted. "My eyes really hurt for some reason, maybe I got some allergy to the local plants, not really something you find in Brockton Bay."

"That's true," Taylor said, thinking back to the beautiful landscapes she found while traveling. From the big forests to the large cities, everything was like out of a painting. "Not a bad place though."

"You think we can find a way to make this our vacation place? Getting prayed to is awesome, would be nice to keep a portal open to return whenever."

"I don't think that'd be smart," Taylor said. "Other capes could come here, make matters worse. Who knows how their powers might change."

Taylor felt someone approach. Newter. The Case 53 with the hallucinogenic fluids was with Weld. She could hear them talk, Weld's voice sounding tense.

"I don't expect it to work," Weld said. "But those portals… if one dragged us here and switched us back for just one second, maybe the cure to what cauldron did to us can be found here."

"That's not the same," Newter explained. He actually sounded irritated, slouching over as they were walking forward. "We would still not know who we were before all this. Our names, our families."

"Does it matter?" Weld asked. "I think it's more important to be the person you are now. You're the person you want to be, after all. The person you became after you lost your memories."

They entered the room, and Taylor could see Weld staring at Newter with some kind of expression she couldn't place. Newter raised his hands.

"You're right."

Weld shrugged at his words, smiling. "Aren't I always? I mean, it'll be just a while longer before we all find out this is a Cauldron plot. I'll make Tattletale confirm it."

He wasn't really the joking kind of person before all this, but it seems that spending time with Tattletale must have made him loosen up a bit.

Newter laughed it off, and the two approached Regent's table. Weld stopped when he saw her, his head tilting to the left slightly, then opened his mouth to speak. Taylor knew what they were talking about, and she had wondered the same thing a while ago - just what had that portal done with their powers?

"Skitter, may I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure," Taylor said, standing up. The moment she took a step forward, she shook her head, pausing. "Just one moment," she told Weld. "Newter, do me a favor and make sure he doesn't cut himself, alright?"

"Uh… okay?" Newter tried, his eyes moving towards the assortment of knives at the request. Regent gave him a smile, holding three knives in between his fingers. Taylor ignored it this time, walking with Weld out of the room again.

The wooden walls had a few framed paintings and plants hanging off them. A strangely normal sight in Khalil's port-city compared to the statues of all kinds of deities in Pavilion.

"What do you need?" Taylor asked the metallic cape. The windows that were there allowed sunlight in, making looking directly at Weld an annoyance. She hadn't talked to him a while either, but that's mostly because he was with Tattletale of Miss Militia.

"You still blame her, don't you?" Weld asked.

"No," Taylor said, leaving no doubt in her voice, though her shoulders sagged at the question.

"Why do I doubt that?" Weld asked. Taylor felt a pang of irritation, the young hero next to her wasn't stupid, but he wasn't afraid of pushing the wrong buttons on anyone. Two could play that game.

"Obviously," Taylor began, dragging the word out a bit. "Because you care about her and don't want to see her feel worse than she already does."

Weld stopped for a second before resuming his walk, shaking his head. "So you know she's not feeling well?"

Taylor knew Tattletale felt bad. It wasn't hard seeing that, and while she felt bad, it wasn't just a topic she could pick up in a conversation, especially with the situation as tense as it was now.

"Yes," Taylor nodded. It would be strange if she didn't. If she didn't, Tattletale wouldn't spend this much time alone trying to find a solution to the problem. "And I really feel sorry for how I treated her, and I can't excuse that, but she knows, and that's what matters."

"What does she know?" Weld asked.

"You guys aren't deaf, you must've heard me waking up every night. I know for sure that Miss Militia was always nearby at first, thinking I might be getting attacked in my sleep early on."

"Nightmares, I recall. Screaming and thrashing around." He nodded. He didn't need much sleep either, so he would know, Taylor assumed. Or maybe Tattletale told him. She couldn't be sure how he was privy to the information, but she honestly doubted that there was a person who didn't know among their group.

"I haven't slept well for over two months," Taylor admitted. "I was irritated, very much so, and I'm as much responsible as she is, I could've ordered her to stop. Lately I've slept a lot better and it's allowed me to have a new… perspective on the matter."

"You mean you're less of a bitch now that you could finally sleep?" Weld asked. Taylor felt the corners of her mouth move up despite herself.

"Maybe that wasn't all there was to it," Taylor said. "I'm worried. About Brockton Bay, my family, about Cauldron."

This caught his attention. "Cauldron?"

"They seem to have their fingers everywhere," Taylor said. "And who knows what they are capable of... What else they're responsible for?"

Weld sighed, his hands coming up behind his head as they walked out of the building. "I suppose I can't fault you for that, the stress and all."

"You're very understanding."

"Am I?"

"You're the first to treat us as something other than villains, I suppose," Taylor said, nodding. "Clockblocker too, maybe, but Miss Militia still doesn't trust us. Right now she's berating him about being a bit too casual with Regent."

"She worries a lot," Weld said, "but so do you."

Taylor watched the people of the city, mostly sailors, crossing the streets, moving fish and cargo around. It was a beautiful city, as beautiful as all the others she had found, and its many wooden homes were as comfortable as they looked like if they were the same as the house they received for their stay.

"I suppose someone has to," Taylor said, listening to Clockblocker defending Regent. Her opinion of the Wards in general has risen to a considerable degree.

The young man nodded.

* * *

Taylor was strolling through the streets, looking for something to do while everyone else was busy. Her bugs kept track of everyone, even Grue who was still… sulking in his room. It wasn't easy to find another word for it, and no matter who tried to approach him, he blew them off. They'd move on tomorrow, which meant she could at least force him to talk with her on the road.

A man bumped into into her.

"Oh my goddess," he said, his voice raspy, and his head hidden under a hood. "I apologize, milady, I have not seen where I walked! Oh, my old bones shall break for this, spirit Skitter!"

"It's alright," Taylor said, waving him off. The man bowed deeply, making pained noises. "I said it's alright!"

Taylor bent down, trying to help the man right himself up again and prevent him from hurting himself more.

"Truly… the goddess is most generous," the man said, chuckling. Something about the way he laughed felt off to her. Taylor narrowed her eyes. The hood moved, and Taylor caught a glimpse of all too familiar eyes under them.

The man grabbed something from under his cloak, and Taylor realized a bit too late that the man who looked like some old cripple from afar was actually armed, the amount of bugs she had gathered during the time on land not actually enough to tag every resident of the city.

The bugs took a while to gather around him, but by that time, his weapon had already been drawn and for Taylor, it was like the time stopped. It was a sword not unlike the one that Zidane had used. More ornate than practical, a thing of beauty instead of war, even the handle looked unwieldy and large, giving it the appearance of an overgrown knife.

But this one was slightly different, its blade more narrow and much shorter. Taylor stepped backwards, trying to grab a knife from her hip. She couldn't. As if a cold hand had grabbed her shoulder, she lost all feeling in her left arm.

Not hesitating, she used her right arm instead, grabbing a knife and overwhelming the man with her bugs, silk bound around his arms and legs, her own knife pressed against his throat. Something landed nearby with a thud, she didn't pay attention to it.

"You dodged," the man said, surprise audible in his voice. The young man. The man she knew and was _warned_ about.

" _Aaron,"_ Taylor hissed, red-hot fury building up in her, a sizzling crescendo of anger spilling out her voice. "You seriously tried to kill me?"

A crowd had gathered around, staring at the scene in fear. Some were running towards the others, calling for them. Weld and Tattletale were already on their way.

"You dodged," Aaron repeated, a lot angrier. "I had you! I had your powers in my grasp! Divinity in my hands!"

"You piece of shit-" Taylor felt a lot of her anger leave as it made place for tiredness. Her head turned, staring towards her left. Her arm was gone.

The limb flew off in an arc as the sword ripped through her bone like it was nothing, and the wound was bleeding. Not as badly as it should, considering the wound, but that could probably be blamed on the strange healing factor she obtained.

And a lot of blood had already spilled onto the ground and Aaron. She'd bleed out before Clockblocker would be here. Taylor's eyes narrowed. If she killed him now, the others wouldn't know where he got that sword. The edges of her vision were beginning to darken. Aaron struggled, trying to get free, but the silk and the amount of bugs she had put onto him were too much to struggle against.

"I thought you were crazy but I didn't know you were stupid," Taylor said through grit teeth, trying to keep herself awake. She pushed bugs over the wound, forcing the non-poisonous ones onto the bleeding in an attempt to stop it. It wasn't as effective as she had hoped, but good enough.

"I couldn't fail! I had the sword! A sword of the gods-" Taylor punched him in the face, and he groaned in pain. "You're no god, you're a monst-"

She punched him again. And again. Every hit was weaker than the next, but every time he tried to open his mouth, her fist smashed against his cheek. At this moment, she really wanted to use the knife.

She fell off him, unable to keep her balance. That was a _lot_ of blood. A lot more blood than she should have in her body. Whatever the fuck was keeping her alive was doing a good job.

Weld and Tattletale arrived, the thinker rushing to her side while the former Ward took care of keeping the restraints on Aaron.

"Skitter," Tattletale slapped her cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just peachy," Taylor hissed through grit teeth, her voice cracking up. Despite the pain, she was able to concentrate well enough by loading most of the annoyance off to her bugs. She did so by loading off all her thoughts towards the bugs, a very useful trick, if it wasn't for the fact that holding a conversation was annoying doing it like that. "Now how about you stop asking questions and get someone who can fix this?"

Clockblocker was on his way already, everyone was, even Grue. It took minutes until they finally arrived, and Taylor's bleeding had miraculously stopped.

"Heal her, now!" Tattletale greeted Clockblocker.

"I can't!" Clockblocker said. Taylor's bugs buzzed loudly.

"What do you mean you can't?" she asked through the bugs.

"Too much time passed! I can reverse that far-"

"What about just gluing it back on?" Regent asked.

"This isn't a time for jokes," Miss Militia said.

"He's right," Tattletale blinked. "You… you haven't bled out and this must be at least twice the amount of blood that you should have in your body. If your body can heal, maybe the limb will attach itself."

Taylor nodded, not finding any reason to disagree. Newter was about to pick up the arm before Grue did it, glaring at him. She brought it towards her shoulder, wiping away the crushed bugs, sending pain throughout her body.

There was a strange noise, the arm stuck.

Taylor screamed, unable to distract herself any longer as the arm began sizzling, releasing red steam.

Taylor wished she had died instead. Minutes later, when she finally stopped screaming, she still felt off.

Taylor stared at her arm in shock, moving it around. There was no feeling in it. She couldn't feel the warm air around her, she couldn't feel anything she touched.

She swallowed. It felt like something she should bring up, but... the others were whooping and celebrating.

"It worked!" Tattletale said. "Good job, Regent!"

Tattletale would know, maybe she could talk in private…

That worked out well the last time, didn't it? Taylor coughed, getting herself up, her throat hurting from the screams of pain.

"I can't feel my arm," Taylor admitted.

"It… might just be that the nerves didn't reconnect correctly yet," Tattletale said. "Or… I don't know."

Sadly, the celebration and attempt at finding out what was wrong with her arm was cut short when Aaron began struggling again. Taylor stood up, walking over to the sword he used against her and picking it up.

"Aaron," she said, walking over to him. The others were gathered around him as well and stepped out of her way as she approached. She stomped onto his stomach. "Where did you get this?"

"Should I truly tell you, goddess? Do you really wish to know?" he asked. She really wished he would hold some villainous monologue just so she could kick him again and again. "Very well then! Your brethren betrayed you, outcast of the spirits! This sword was given to me to hunt you down and take your place!"

The crowd around gasped, as if the fact that it was an all too familiar face, the face of their prince Aaron telling them that, was enough to convince them.

"And I have told you, all of you," Taylor said, glancing towards the crowd. Amal was with them, holding distance from the capes. "Repeatedly. I'm not a spirit, I'm not a god, and I'm not interested in your fucking shenanigans. Who gave you that knife, Aaron? Zidane?"

"You shall never know, wench, monster-"

She kicked him, her breath short and ragged.

"Drag him away," she said while grabbing the sheath on Aaron, attaching it to her side and sheathing the absurd blade. "Or I might kill him. Stow him somewhere until we can ask his brother what to do with him."

"Are you sure?" Miss Militia asked. "Can't we look for local authorities to take-"

"He's Prince Aaron," Taylor explained. "He _is_ a local authority. The only person we can go to with this is his brother, Prince Moses."

"Tsk," Miss Militia clicked her tongue. The hero was as much a fan of corrupt officials as she was, it seems.

* * *

Taylor and the others were already on their way out of the city, and instead of the constant bows and prayers, people couldn't be more obvious in their attempt to avoid them. The fact that they had a prince bound and gagged was probably not something in their favor. Only Amal remained loyal.

Taylor wished she didn't. Lately, the priestess has been causing a lot more grief to her.

The road towards Elamia was done on the wolves, they had to hurry, but even with the fastest available transportation, they were barely over the halfway point by the time everything went dark.

Miss Militia would watch Aaron for the night, but Taylor could still not sleep calmly.

No, the nightmares returned, in a much greater intensity than before even. Her shoulder, her arm, they hurt inside the dream, but the feeling was gone again the moment she woke up. Instead of waking up the others with screams, she decided to stay awake instead. She got enough sleep, and the sun was slowly climbing up the dark horizon.

Over the ashes of the fire they had lighted, something that Tattletale had done with great glee and Weld had assisted her with for some reason, she approached Miss Militia and Weld, who were sitting in front of the prince.

"He's not gonna talk," Miss Militia said.

"I know," Taylor said. "That's not why I'm here, anyway. His brother might have some answers."

Aaron, despite his position, was resting, his eyes shut and giving no indication that he was awake. He looked beaten up, of course he did, black and blue spots all over his face and his clothes ripped at some spots. Taylor wished she had punched harder.

"Nightmares?" Weld asked. "You looked uncomfortable."

"Might have to do with the arm, it feels off," Taylor rolled the shoulder in question, her left arm moving as she wanted it. "Maybe a cape can fix it."

"Your power has changed considerably if it suddenly has regeneration like that," Miss Militia said. "Maybe you just need some time to get used to it. I know of capes that couldn't turn off their powers at first."

"And then there are those who just can't turn them off at all," Weld said. "Not much to change there."

Taylor was about to say something when they were suddenly blanketed in darkness.

The sun vanished, and Taylor looked up to see why, Weld and Miss Militia mirroring the action and staring as the hole appeared. A hole not unlike the portal. Miss Militia didn't hesitate before creating an assault rifle with her power and shooting at the portal, waking the rest of the capes up.

The portal kept widening, however.

By the time that something tried to come out, Taylor had thousands of bugs in front of the portal. She couldn't risk pushing them in and losing the connection again, so she sent them onto the large foot. Then another foot joined.

And once again, like the girl that was with Zidane, the large person was seemingly unbothered, slowly descending, revealing muscled bronze colored legs.

"What the fuck-" Tattletale began, and then it fell.

The entire body joined the legs and a large man, a body that was just over three meters towering over them. He had struck a strange pose as he put his arms above his head to fall through the portal and bent his knees to lessen the impact of the fall.

The portal vanished immediately, and the man looked towards them, a bald head reflecting the morning sun not unlike Weld's skin and a strangely colored beard in blue-ish colors with braids dangling down his wide chin.

The green eyes of the giant man who was dressed in barely more than a tunic were fixed on Weld, and he sat down, a sheath on his hip jiggling in the motion. Miss Militia aimed her gun at him, but stopped shooting. It would be nothing more than an exercise in futility.

"Greetings," the man said. His voice had a strange tune to it, as if echoing in a cave, but was still clear

"Who are you?" Tattletale asked shocked. "The one who sent this guy?"

She pointed at the bound and gagged Aaron, who had also woken up and scrambled towards the group and away from the man as the crash echoed through the clearing. Taylor was still paying attention to the sword on the man's hip, however. It was the same kind as Aaron's and Zidane's, she assumed.

"I have many names, though I do not know how familiar you are with them," he said. "In these parts of the world, it would be 'Besi'."

Amal gasped, bowing down in front of the man immediately. Taylor glanced towards the woman.

"Explain," Taylor demanded.

"The god of the forges, Besi, husband to Shaitan!" Amal said. "He is one of the old gods!"

"Ah," Tattletale said. "So you call yourself a deity?"

"Not divine as such," Besi said. "But I suppose it is what they have decided to call us. I admit, it has been over four hundred years since I have walked this plane."

A big boast. Four-hundred years? That was a considerable time, and yet, it fit with all those crazy musings of Amal about the spirits vanishing around that time.

"You didn't answer her question," Miss Militia said, her gun still trained on him. "Did you send him?"

"I did not," Besi said. "Whatever would give you that idea?"

"He used this," Taylor said, pulling out the sword of the sheath. Grue looked ready to explode. If a glare could kill, Taylor had no doubt that the leather-clad villain would've killed Besi twice over. The bronze man looked at the blade.

"That is indeed a knife I have forged," he said. "One that was stolen like many others, not long ago. Though how one found itself in the hands of a human, I do not know."

"Can we ask the more important question first?" Clockblocker asked. Tattletale glanced at him, and he shrugged. "That portal you made, can it get us home?"

"I suppose that depends on where your home is…"

"Can it take us to where Imp is?" Taylor asked instead.

"Young Imp?" the man asked, blinking. "I'm sorry, I did not recognize you earlier," he continued, bowing down, his large face much closer to them now. "I have bad eyes, I'm afraid, and I only approached this place in search of my knife. Tell me, are you the group that was dragged here? If Young Imp was with you, you must be, are you not?"

"How about you start at the beginning," Taylor suggested. "Who dragged us here, and what do you know about Imp?"

She stared at Grue, ready to say something should it become necessary.

"My mother knows more," Besi said. "You were dragged here by my sister, for a purpose that is still unknown to us all, and to counter whatever manipulation, she brought Young Imp and the one you held most dear in your heart as well."

"I was brought here because she cared about me?" Grue asked, his glare softening slightly. "For _what_?"

"Bad news," Taylor said, sounding bitter while Regent broke out in soft laughter. "Me and him, it's not going to happen anymore, in large part because people who used a portal like yours kidnapped his sister, and now this fucker with your 'knife'," she waved the sword around. "Cut off my arm yesterday."

Taylor ignored Grue's stare.

"Ah…" Besi said, now sitting cross-legged before bowing down, his head pressed into the ground. "I apologize, wayward children, I am responsible for my creations and those who use them. I shall pay you reparations."

"How about you get us Imp and then give us a portal to our world?" Tattletale asked. "That would be enough."

"I cannot do that," Besi said simply.

"What do you mean you can't?" Grue asked, his voice tight.

"I cannot tell you where your sister is. We are not omniscient… hmmm…" His eyes went back to Weld. "You, child, you are known as the welded one, are you not? I have heard them call you my child, and I must say, the resemblance is uncanny, hahahah."

His laugh was soft, kind, sounding strange with that echo in his voice. Weld glared at him.

"What about the portal home, then?" Weld asked. "To Brockton Bay."

"That might be possible," Besi said. One of his large hands was put under his chin, and he tilted his head as if in thought. The way he made it look was actually rather funny, more like a child than a god. "But I do not have such a power, I'm afraid. My mother and father, mighty as they are, might be able to help you."

"Great!" Tattletale muttered. "So what? Follow you through that portal to who knows where and end up trapped? We can't really trust you."

"I did not expect you to," he said. "Trust is hard earned."

"But- but spirit Tattletale!" Amal said. "He's a god! He would never betray you!"

"And I have told you that I'm not a spirit," Taylor said. "I'm not, am I?"

The question was aimed at Besi. If anyone could confirm the theory that spirits were just the equivalent of parahumans here, it would be him.

"Fascinating," he said, staring right at Weld, ignoring her question. "You are human, are you not? Truly fascinating!"

"Besi!" Taylor thundered. She could put an end to this once and for all, maybe have some peace about the topic from a source that Amal obviously trusted. The man's stare went to her. "Am I what the people around here call a spirit?"

"I can't say," he said. "You feel a lot more like one than the rest of these children do. Tell me, are you young Skitter?"

"Yes," Taylor said.

"Ah, it seems that you are indeed the one my sister has broken the laws for," Besi said. "Tell me, young Skitter-"

A portal opened again, right under Besi.

"It seems I have overstayed my welcome," Besi said. "I apologize, I could not answer any more questions."

"NO! WAIT!" Taylor rushed towards him, trying to grab the man out of the portal, the others following. "Stay here you asshole, we need answers!"

It was futile, and the portal closed, not letting Taylor's hand through.

"Fuck, fuck FUCK!" Taylor cursed, kicking the ground where the portal was. "Our way out-"

"Not the way to my sister," Grue said. Taylor frowned. He was right.

"He said he was looking for this knife, right?" Tattletale asked. "So if you hold onto it, maybe he'll appear again?"

"Maybe," Taylor said, grinding her teeth together. "I really don't like how this ended. This guy, was he a cape?"

Tattletale shook her head. "Whatever he was, he was probably something different."

"Don't tell me you believe this bullshit about him being a deity," Grue said. "He's just…"

"A huge guy with a portal that can apparently carry him great distances."

"A parlor trick that hundreds of capes in our world can do and you are ready to keel over?"

"No." Taylor shook her head. "But he answered our questions, and he didn't attack us."

"And he didn't lie, as far as I could tell," Tattletale said. "We can't really be sure he was telling the truth either. Especially about that stuff with the spirits."

"You've heard it from one of the greatest gods!" Amal said feverently. "She's a spirit, more so than any of you!"

"Shut up," Taylor said, kicking the dust where the portal vanished. "I don't need this right now. Just… just shut up."

Amal looked torn, but Taylor ignored her. They were so close, just… just one minute longer, and they would've had the answers they needed to find a way back home.


End file.
